Unstrung
by Unliteration
Summary: Failure is not an option.
1. Chapter 1

Unstrung

Failure is not an option.

Attempting a followup to Ladder may be a mistake by its nature, as most true sequels to a horror story fall flat. To even convince myself to attempt it, I had to go in a different direction. Perhaps even focus on a different kind of horror experience altogether.

This is the result.

Again, here's a track listing of mood-setting pieces I listened to while writing, along with their respective sources. Even if you choose not to listen, the track names often serve as good chapter titles. I'm trying to use freely available material as much as possible this time, but some of the Silent Hill OSTs creep in anyway.

Finally, I'd like to thank my beta reader, TheDarkestRed, for giving a critical eye and helping correct some of those little errors I never seem to fully eradicate on my own.

01 - Angel's Thanatos (Silent Hill 2 OST)

02 - Haunted - Admittance (Ashes of Bitterness)

03 - Haunted - Waiting Room (Ashes of Bitterness)

04 - Melody of the Desperate Ones (Ashes of Bitterness)

05 - Haunted - Roof (Ashes of Bitterness)

06 - A Lullaby for Two (Endless Delusions)

07 - Innocent Times (Ashes of Bitterness)

08 - Into The Depths Of Self Discovery (Silent Hill 4 OST Disc 1)

09 - Sanctuary (Broken Notes Melancholy Disc 2)

10 - Remanences (Ashes of Bitterness)

11 - I'm Here (Silent Hill Fan Soundtrack)

12 - The Fog (Part I) (Broken Notes Sanatorium - Lost Chapters Disc 2)

13 - Balkan Church (Silent Hill Fan Soundtrack)

14 - Droplets of Recovering Memory (Ashes of Bitterness)

15 - Down (Ashes of Bitterness)

16 - Nonsense Prayer (Ashes of Bitterness)

17 - Compressed Into Time (Broken Notes Unreleased)

18 - Gray Afternoon (Broken Notes Sanatorium - Lost Chapters Disc 2)

19 - Unjust Truth (Silent Hill Fan Soundtrack)

20 - Unsettled (Unedited Version) (Broken Notes Unedited)

21 - Shattered Waltz (Broken Notes Sanatorium - Lost Chapters Disc 2)

22 - If Only (Ashes of Bitterness)

23 - Chimerical (Letters from Condemned Worlds)

Chapter 1

Blossom watched in a mixture of shock and anger while Buttercup shot through the opening door. The air in the airlock followed, creating a wind from behind that blew her long, red hair in front of her face. Her vision obscured by the flapping locks, she watched the small bay doors close as she wondered whether she should have followed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

[Angel's Thanatos]

Quietly fuming at Buttercup's minor revolt, Blossom turned to Bubbles and said, "Let's get back to the bridge and help dad!"

Bubbles seemed distressed, but nodded. Her unease was understandable considering their situation, which had led Buttercup to take matters into her own hands. In deep space, far from home, in an outdated ship, fighting a battle in which they could not bring their special gifts to bear.

She and her sister sped the short distance back to their father, who tried desperately to manage piloting the ship by himself. The lights dimmed as their shields once again took the brunt of a shot instead of deflecting it. This time, instead of coming back on, the main lights stayed off as emergency lights kicked on. Small alarms began sounding and flashing on one of the nearby consoles.

Hoping to prevent further such stress, Blossom took up the weapons console once again, ready to give their opponents something to worry about.

"Where's Buttercup?" Professor asked, concerned about his girls above all else.

_Right, Buttercup!_ Blossom thought. She couldn't open fire with her out there. There was no doubt in her mind that she would have remembered before she actually taking a shot, but the mere thought of discovering what harm these powerful weapons might cause them....

"She went outside!" Blossom answered, working amidst her unbearable frustration as she tried to get a visual on the opposition. Between her dad's wild navigations and the black, mirror-like surface of the enemy ship, it was hard to keep track of the situation.

"Where?" Professor asked in turn, unable to completely hide the worry in his voice.

Blossom opened her mouth, ready to say she didn't know, when she finally got her sights realigned. A green streak flashed by on her display, and she watched its course take it right through the enemy ship. "Attacking the ship!"

The streak of green weakened and quickly faded as it emerged from the other side of the craft. The enemy ship itself slowed and started wavering back and forth as if the pilot kept overcompensating for the ship's incorrect heading.

"They're shaky!" Blossom said, elated at Buttercup's success, though she knew her position as leader could only allow her to scold her sister's showmanship in the end. "Come around," she ordered her dad, wanting to bring the ship's more powerful weaponry to bear. Most of the armaments in the rear of the ship had been destroyed early in the conflict.

By the time Professor Utonium had finished maneuvering, the other ship still seemed to be reeling, plumes of vapor still shooting from the two holes Buttercup had made. For the first time, Blossom was able to land several direct hits with their antimatter projectors. The blasts shook even their own ship, to say nothing of the opposition.

Blossom paused to consider what they—what she—had just done. For the first time, she had willfully taken another life in the pursuit of justice. This ship was one of three that had conducted a brief raid on Earth, stealing valuable resources and causing both damage and terror as they went.

Still, she had prepared herself for this. The Telorian Syndicate had graciously offered them this ship to play the role of bounty hunter, though in honesty the craft was probably ready to be retired. The likelihood of simply disabling another craft with this kind of crude equipment was quite slim, a kind old veteran had warned her.

Blossom took a moment to glance at Bubbles, who stood idly nearby, feeling out of place and useless from the onset of the fight. Her eyes had begun to tear up slightly, and Blossom wondered if she wouldn't have to comfort her over the deaths they'd just caused.

"Where's Buttercup?" Bubbles asked instead, noticing Blossom's glance. "Can you see where she went?"

Blossom, already focused on her monitors, furrowed her brow in concentration. "Right through the ship. She'll probably be to the airlock any minute. You should wait and let her back in."

Bubbles was gone in a flash. Blossom smiled to herself, glad to have both comforted Bubbles and given her a way to feel useful in one swoop.

"Blossom?" Professor asked, craning his neck to look at her. "Can you scan the debris field?"

Blossom nodded, leaving her tactical station. The two of them were slowly getting used to piloting a ship with a typical minimum crew of five. With Buttercup too impatient and hard on the equipment, and Bubbles paying too little attention to detail, Blossom and Professor took care of almost everything by themselves.

"I can't say I understand all of these readouts," Blossom replied, "but it looks like some trace energy signatures are still present. I don't see any survivors."

"The energy patterns are understandable, based on Lieutenant Greevok's information."

Blossom nodded. The hull of that particular ship was made of a specialized nano-engineered substance. Apart from its strength, it had the ability to channel energy and reconfigure itself to repair minor damage. The technology was still not fully understood by the Telorian authorities, but was believed to be computationally capable as well. A sturdy, self-healing, almost intelligent structure. Of the three vessels to encounter first, Blossom thought glumly, it was just their luck it'd be this monstrosity.

At least now the hard part was over. In her mind she reviewed what came next. Soon, Buttercup would be coming up to gloat. If Professor didn't make a big fuss, Blossom would make some generic comments about teamwork, scold Buttercup for putting herself and, thus, her sisters in danger, and so on. Later on she'd get Buttercup involved in tracking down the remaining ships or something else to keep her spirits up despite the lecture. Then she'd have to arrange for some time alone with Bubbles to make sure she was holding up all right.

All told, they'd seen worse. Inwardly, she was pretty proud of how well she and her family had handled these strange new dangers.

"Nothing unusual," Blossom said. "I'm not picking up any other ships at range, either. I guess they were alone after all."

Professor nodded slowly, his eyes downcast as he, too, considered their next course. Blossom swelled up with pride inside, happy for the little ways she resembled her father. Perhaps he wasn't as quick-thinking in a crisis as she was, but he could hardly be blamed for that. He more than made up for it with his overall ingenuity, as far as she was concerned.

"What condition is the ship in?"

Blossom floated to another console before making her reply. At eleven years of age, she was tall enough she didn't need to hover to use the equipment, but sometimes a quick glide was just plain faster than walking. "Looks like we took some physical damage through the shields. We overloaded more than a few relays. We should be able to hobble along to within communication range of the syndicate outpost a few days back, but I wouldn't count on anything else." Anticipating his next question, she added, "We should be able to make a few repairs in the meanwhile, but it'll take some time to figure out how to go about doing it."

"This is pretty bad," Professor mumbled to himself absently, having joined Blossom to view the readouts. Blossom smiled at him at he scanned the displays with worry in his eyes. Without her level experience in these kinds of things, he could hardly be blamed for his fears. She and her sisters came out of hard fights all the time, but they always made it back, rested up, and moved on to the next one. If nothing else, Buttercup's display had shown that they could handle things themselves if their ship wouldn't cut it. He just needed to have a bit more faith in them.

"What about your sisters?" Professor asked, turning his attention suddenly to Blossom. "Are they still at the airlock?"

Blossom again furrowed her brow, now wondering herself what the delay could be. "Lemme check. I'll be right back."

She left the room at a brisk walk, trying to review in her mind some of the technical documents she'd read before and during their journey. After straightening her sisters out, she and Professor would have to get started on what few repairs they would be capable of.

Eventually she came to Bubbles, who sat on the floor of the airlock, her knees drawn up to her chin. The outer doors were still closed and Buttercup was nowhere in sight.

Blossom turned her gaze to the exterior of the ship, using her powerful eyes to look through the bay doors. Buttercup wasn't there, either.

"I haven't seen her yet," Bubbles said softly, staring through those same doors as she spoke. "Is she fooling around outside or something?"

Blossom's stomach dropped. Her mind flitted back to the image of the green streak spearing through the enemy ship. The streak had slowed and faded after plowing through, right? Or had she imagined that? Could Buttercup have just looped back around after coming out? That might make it look like she slowed down and grew fainter. With the dust in the nebula, if she went too far, it might look like the green had faded away completely.

Blossom sighed quietly. That must be it. Buttercup just went too far into the nebula and probably lost sight of the ship. In fact, she was probably getting nervous by now. Served her right, she thought. It'd also save her some trouble in reprimanding her later.

"She must just be lost in the nebula. Let's head to the bridge again and try to scan the area."

Bubbles offered a weary nod and stood. Blossom decided to take the time to talk to her, walking back to the bridge as slowly as she'd left it.

"You look a little down," Blossom commented casually. "Are you holding up all right?"

Bubbles shrugged. "I guess so."

"Really? You don't sound very convincing."

Bubbles was silent for a while. "I dunno. I'm just worried about Buttercup."

Blossom smiled softly. "Are you sure? I mean, don't tell her I said this, but she didn't do a half-bad job once she got out there. That one shot shook them up pretty bad."

Silence again, then, "Maybe. I just feel.... I dunno. Like something's not right."

Blossom shook her head slightly. "I'm sure there's nothing to be worried about. You'll see."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

[Haunted - Admittance]

"Dad, Buttercup's not back. I think she got lost in the nebula or something," Blossom informed as she made her way to one of the consoles. "I'll scan around for her."

Professor paused before asking, "Are you sure everything's all right?"

Blossom shrugged. "She plowed through that ship pretty easily. They were too busy trying to stabilize their trajectory to fire any shots at her, so I'm sure that's all it is."

"Daddy," Bubbles said in a shaky voice. Blossom, back turned to both of them, rolled her eyes. "Something doesn't feel right. It's like my tummy's tight and it won't relax. Every time I think about Buttercup it gets tighter."

At her mention of it, Blossom sympathetically felt the same sensation briefly. As she willed it away, she wondered how Bubbles, even at eleven years of age, could so easily descend to such childish antics.

"Why is that, honey?" Professor asked in his most gentle voice.

"I dunno. It just does." She paused. "How long can she stay out there?"

"We can go without air way longer than this," Blossom reminded her. "I wouldn't--"

"But what if she got the wind knocked out of her?" Bubbles interrupted. "Or the space dust tickled her nose and made her sneeze?"

Blossom was silent. She wanted to reassure them, but her scans still weren't picking up anything yet. Could Buttercup have left the nebula to get a better view of the area? How far could she have gone in the last...how many minutes had it been?

Forcing confidence into her voice, Blossom said, "Let me check something...."

She brought up the visual recordings from their recent battle and quickly found the part with the destructive green streak. At first glance, it did look like the streak truly had continued in a straight line. It didn't shrink or curve. It just...faded away.

She watched it again, strengthening her suspicions.

"Did she stop?" Bubbles asked.

Blossom grimaced momentarily, not thinking that Bubbles and Professor would be standing behind, watching along with her.

"What are those coordinates?" Professor asked, his level tone sounding a bit forced.

Without another word, Blossom started checking the data, thinking to herself that she was just about to do that anyway. Trying to get one step ahead again, she started to pan their viewport to the spot even as she read the numbers.

Professor walked back to navigation and steered them closer. Blossom tried some short range scans again, though she was not surprised to find them coming up empty again. The feeling Bubbles had mentioned was starting to return.

"Can you replay the recording and get a better look at her?" Professor asked when he returned.

Blossom nodded, in a bit of a daze, now. Her brow had again furrowed slightly and seemed content to stay that way. She only half paid attention as she magnified the still frame, trying to imagine what Buttercup would do in various situations. Where would she go? How fast? Would she still be moving now or would she have stopped to wait for them?

Finally honed in on the emerging streak, Blossom absentmindedly stepped forward frame by frame, adjusting along the way to keep the front of the streak in the center of the screen.

"Oh my God," Bubbles whimpered.

Hearing her sister's reaction, Blossom snapped back to attention, watching the screen intently. She tilted her head in curiosity at first, but as she stepped through a few more frames her jaw slowly dropped.

Buttercup seemed to be spinning end over end. Wisps of the green light trail, fragmenting in the turmoil, obscured parts of the image but gently illuminated others. Buttercup's face was darkened by what looked like blood, and a stream of it seemed to be following behind her head.

Blossom tensed as a chill climbed up her spine.

"Move, sweetie," Professor said, pushing Blossom aside with only token gentleness. She watched idly as he seemed to try calculating her trajectory from what little data they had. He plotted a cone-shaped course and aimed their scanners in that direction.

He remained silent throughout, and said nothing even as he walked to the other console to plot their course. Their heading set, he returned to the console between Blossom and Bubbles in equal silence, not even sparing them a glance. Blossom felt compelled to step back a bit and give him space to work in.

As she did so, she turned her attention to Bubbles. Her face was scrunched up in a horrible expression of despair. Tears flowed silently down her cheeks in a steady stream, complemented by a small trickle of snot beginning to meander from her nostrils. She breathed out slowly with an almost inaudible whine, but every inhalation was a sharp, short, hiccup-like intake.

Blossom wanted to do something, but Professor was doing all they could for Buttercup right now and Bubbles seemed beyond consolation. She feared the slightest stimulus would set her sister to out-of-control bawling.

Then Blossom's eyes widened as she settled on something she could do. Departing at a run, she checked the medical bay. Some supplies had toppled onto the floors or spilled onto the counters, and as she took in the scene she saw sparks fly from a seam along one of the walls.

In a flash she put the room back in order, then turned her attention to the sparking wall. A power conduit ran through there, and although damaged, it seemed stable enough to leave alone for a few minutes.

Next she shot back down to the airlock and ran a diagnostic, not wanting to risk that that the last shot they took had damaged anything.

Certain now that everything would operate smoothly once they found Buttercup, she went to scrounge through their supplies so she could start repairing some of the damage to the ship.

Arriving at the store room, she was dismayed to find the door stuck tight. Taking a moment to look through it to the room beyond, she stared in slack-jawed disbelief at the sight. It seemed as though the contents were made of wax and had been left in a car on a hot summer day. One of the volleys fired by the enemy ship must have partially penetrated their shields and created a brief but intense region of heat. They'd probably come just shy of breaching the outer hull. Within reach of total defeat.

Gritting her teeth, she shoved her fingers though the sturdy metal door, pushing and tearing with superhuman strength to force it open. Once inside, she wondered briefly why she had bothered, but pushed those doubts away to thoroughly check the tools and supplies stored within.

Some things she tossed into a corner with various degrees of anger. Others had fused to the shelves or containers where they had been stored. Her frustration grew with every item she checked, as not one thing seemed in usable condition.

She cursed, startling herself as she did so. Disdainful of profanity, she tended to avoid it, but now seemed as appropriate a moment for it as any.

Realizing that she was losing control, she forced herself to settle down and think clearly. The ship was still on emergency power, and the fluctuations and sparks of the power conduit in the medical lounge might put the equipment at risk of failure, or worse.

Before she could begin to consider ways to deal with these problems, she felt and heard the opening of the airlock on the other end of the ship. In a heartbeat she flew off, arriving at the scene. The inner door was safely closed, but the outer door was open. Blossom didn't see anyone in there at first, but Bubbles soon arrived. Blossom immediately pressed the button to close the outer door and fill the room with air.

She watched as Buttercup, now in the artificial gravity of the ship, drooped limply in Bubbles's arms. Her head lolling about drew Blossom's attention, and she noticed several inches of glossy black metal sticking out of her head.

Blossom's eyes widened and she stepped back, unconsciously getting out of the way of her father, who's sprint had only now brought him to the airlock.

As he ushered Bubbles out, Blossom could only stare dumbstruck at Buttercup's limp form passing by. For a moment, she was blind to everything else, and the sound of her father's commands were so much meaningless static in her ears.

Only after they disappeared around a corner did Blossom acquire the presence of mind to follow. Though she could have caught up easily, her approach was slow and shaky. Some strides were eager, others so reluctant she almost stopped. That unpleasant sensation had returned, and she found herself wishing she could tell her daddy her tummy felt funny, too.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

[Haunted - Waiting Room]

Blossom finally reached the medical lounge. Buttercup lay on a bed, blood slowly pooling around her head. Bubbles sat beside her, holding her hand tightly, her face again scrunched up in a mask of misery that rendered her unrecognizable.

Blossom flinched as the damaged ship sparked from the nearby wall once again. Her father was frantically searching the room, cursing under his breath as he went. Pans and tools clanged as he slammed things onto counters, flung doors and cabinets open, and generally managed to make as much ruckus as possible, short of throwing things.

From her vantage point in the doorway, Blossom dared to look again at Buttercup. She listened carefully over the cacophony of tears, metal, and glass and heard a weak, slow heartbeat. Buttercup's chest rose and fell very gently, very slowly. Her face was an odd sort of dark color, almost gray, though that could have been due to the glow of the emergency lights which flickered every time sparks flew from the nearby wall. Her lips had become a blue so striking one would assume it was the result of garish makeup.

Even Bubbles, close as she was, was careful to stare only at her sister's face. Blossom dared to look higher. Buttercup's hair was matted with what Blossom knew to be blood. A shard of metal, a break as clean and smooth as if it were glass, jutted out from the top of her head, inches from her forehead.

Blossom recognized the inky black material, thanks in part to its incredible gloss. It seemed her sister's plunge through the enemy vessel had not been a clean one.

After taking a moment to remind herself that she was the leader of this operation, she tapped into a reserve of strength and resolve and forced herself to look deeper, to see just how far it went, and how bad the damage might be.

About four inches were visible outside. A little over two more had been driven inside.

Medicine was not her strongest suit, but it seemed that if they could stop the bleeding and avoid dangerous swelling of the brain, they could stabilize her. Warm her up, supply her with fluids, and they'd be able to keep her safe until they got within range of the nearest outpost. Their blood was compatible. They'd find a way to transfuse it. She'd heard full fluid transfusions most often seen in popular fiction were primitive and risky, but she didn't know what the alternative was. Hopefully her dad did.

She continued to stare in the general direction of Buttercup's injury, but had allowed her vision to grow blurry and unfocused as she lost herself in thought. Dad would be running the show for a while. That meant.... What did that mean? What did she do, now?

"Blossom?" Professor asked again, in a tone that implied he'd been calling her name for a while.

"Wh-- Yes?" she responded. Bubbles was already wearing latex gloves too large for her small hands, heating precious water with her heat vision. Wisps of steam crawled up her face as fresh tears burned away.

"Can you do something about that power conduit? Steady these lights?"

"Y--yes, sir," Blossom said without thinking, running out of the room.

She stopped partway down the hallway. She'd already seen the state that main storage was in. What did she think she was she going to do about the conduit?

Her legs grew weak, and the next time she opened her eyes she was kneeling on the floor, struggling to see through her tears.

She tried for several moments to regain her composure. She commanded her body to stand, but it wasn't until her third try that it obeyed. That minor victory helped her to find some handhold by which to climb out of her rut.

"There's another storage room," she mumbled to herself. "Aft. Section 3."

She could have flown there in a heartbeat, but with her mind in such disarray she didn't feel like she could dart through half a dozen right angle turns at high speed. As she jogged she continued rambling, seeking to focus and distract her mind at the same time.

"We were scanning for Buttercup. I went to get ready. I heard the airlock, and they brought her in. What am I missing? What am I-- Of course! Dad was rushed. He probably didn't change our course. I should do that. Do it now? Maybe. We'd get help sooner.

"No, no, no, what am I thinking? We have to get her stable first. I have to fix the light first. Here we go."

She had arrived at the other storage area. She scanned it and realized she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. What parts did she even need? What would she do with them when she found them? Maybe they'd have to cut power to that area completely while she made repairs. Could they afford to have her bumbling through a repair job while leaving everyone in the dark at this critical moment?

"Books.... Books are on the bridge," she reminded herself.

This time she picked up speed as she darted through the corridors, though she still avoided taking flight.

Since she was there anyway, she checked their heading and found that they were still drifting in the wrong direction. She set their course straight and opened a drawer with hard copies of the various manuals and schematics of the ship. So far, she'd found them more comfortable and easier than reading the corresponding files on the ship's computers. Compared to the effort their allies had taken to translate the documents into English, a few printings were nothing.

She sat down on the floor with an armful of them. Spreading them out, she pondered their titles and picked one.

It was hard to read in the dim light. She flipped back and forth between pages, scanned the table of contents and index several times. More times than she could count she found she had to re-read a passage because her mind had been elsewhere the first time through. Or the second. Or the third.

Her frustration only mounted when she found the sections in question. Foreign terms with no meaning to her slowed her at every turn. Did she need to know that word? Was that some kind of tool? What was a Counter-Impulse Manifold and why the hell was it capitalized?

This wasn't a repair manual, she realized as her anxiety grew. These were technical specifications. (She could feel it rising within her.) She'd have to study these for hours, even days, before making any practical use of it. (She set down the suddenly-heavy book.) Even then, did they still have the needed tools and supplies? (She felt flushed and light-headed.) By the time she finished, would Buttercup even still be alive?

She turned to the side and vomited. Dazed, she wiped her mouth and reached out a shaking hand for the book again.

For a time, she stared at the trembling appendage. It was hard to admit, but she was just wasting her time here.

Instead she got back to her feet, leaving her mess (both of them) behind her and returning to her family with as much speed as she could muster at the moment.

Professor noticed her return as soon as she stepped into the doorway.

"Blossom, can you come here a minute?"

She nodded uncertainly, taking in the scene as she entered. Bubbles was sitting on the floor with her back wedged into the corner, hiding her face in her knees. Professor was examining Buttercup's head with the flashlight.

"What happened?" Blossom asked quietly as she floated up beside her dad for a better look.

She gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth. Buttercup's eyes were half-open, and her eyes meandered about aimlessly. Her mouth hung open, moving ever so slightly back and forth, as if in a weak attempt to speak or chew.

"Honey, can I ask you to do something?" Professor asked with a careful mix of gentleness and firmness, staring at Blossom without blinking, trying to hold her attention.

Hand still over her mouth, she nodded.

"I need someone to cut her hair off. Can you do that for me?" he asked, holding the scissors up beside his face.

Blossom stared at them for several seconds before nodding, reaching out with her still-trembling hand for them. Professor handed them to her and said, "Be careful, honey. We'll get through this, all right?"

As she cut away Buttercup's blood-matted locks, trying to ignore her wandering eyes, wondering if there was still enough of her mind left to justify saving her body, Blossom didn't have to ask a second time why Bubbles had retreated to the corner.

Professor didn't asked about the repairs. She was content to forget about that and focus on something she could actually do. He left her field of view to dig through some more cabinets.

She cut carefully around the area, as close to the skin as possible. She didn't know if they even had clippers, and wanted to make as close a cut as she could. She winced in pain for her sister as her handiwork revealed a deep scrape where the metal had sliced through her scalp before penetrating her skull. The wound weeped a little as she put pressure on the surrounding areas, but at least it was not actively bleeding.

Professor returned and started fiddling with something on the tray. Still focusing on her work, she spoke to him with a calmness that shocked her. "The bleeding's stopped," she said.

"I know," Professor said softly.

"Is that good?" Blossom asked?

"I think so, sweetie. The wound clotted very quickly."

Blossom's eyes shot his way when she heard something whir to life for a few seconds. Upon seeing the bone saw in his hand, she quickly turned her attention back to her work.

Professor shined his light on the wound again. Blossom backed away so he could see what she'd revealed so far, then scooped up a fistful of the bloody hair she'd already cut away. It felt odd in her hands, and she found herself staring at it when Professor gently suggested, "Just throw it on the floor, sweetie."

Without looking up at him, she nodded gently and did just that, returning to her cutting. By this point she'd gotten very good at ignoring Buttercup's half-conscious state. It was easy to hold her head gently in place as she cut, working her way down to the shard itself. She worked around the area as best she could, waiting to get the fraction of an inch nearest to it until the last possible moment, afraid to touch the shard or worsen her injury.

She held her breath and moved her hand with all the slowness and gentility she could muster. Apparently, somewhere along the way the trembling in her hand had ceased, and she slid the edge of the blade along with surgical precision. The dull edge glided alongside the shard of black metal, and even when the lights flickered again her hand did not waver.

Blossom quickly pulled back as Buttercup jerked her head away. Expecting it was just more random motion, she sat in helpless shock as Buttercup sat up and lunged at her. Blossom shrieked and held her hand up to protect her face. Buttercup's own face twisted with rage while she sank her teeth into Blossom's arm.

Blossom screamed again and tried to push Buttercup away by her forehead, even as her sister shook her head back and forth and dug her teeth in deeper. Bubbles appeared at their side, trying awkwardly to grab Buttercup's head and body to steady her.

Buttercup released Blossom's arm and screamed at Bubbles, swatting her away with one arm, causing her to put a deep dent in the wall and demolish an overhead supply cabinet.

Professor stepped in and held what looked like a breath spray to Buttercup's face. Soon after, she grew limp again, forcing Blossom and Professor to grab her and lower her gently back to the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

[Melody of the Desperate Ones]

"Are you okay?" Blossom asked Bubbles, who was still sitting meekly in the dent in the wall.

"You're bleeding," Bubbles said.

Blossom looked down to see her arm was dripping blood onto Buttercup's hand. She tried to bend her arm to get a better look at her injury and instead winced in pain at the motion.

"Bubbles, dress your sister's arm," Professor ordered more gently than he'd given any order in this ordeal. He began to strap Buttercup to the table.

"Will those hold her?" Blossom asked.

"They will now," Professor said. "I used Antidote X on her."

"Wait, but.... Won't it be harder to recover without her powers?"

Bubbles arrived with some bandages and began to wrap Blossom's arm. Blossom grimaced through the pain and focused on her conversation.

"It was necessary to.... Necessary so we can cut into her skull."

Blossom looked to the bone saw on the table and back to the Professor with a profound mix of confusion and contempt. "But why? Wouldn't that just make her bleed more? Wouldn't we be better off stabilizing her and waiting for medical professionals?"

Bubbles, who had started unraveling the bandages on Blossom's arm because she wasn't wrapping them tight enough, replied in a whisper, "Look inside her head."

Blossom turned her gaze to Buttercup. Blossom's fresh blood had dripped from her sister's mouth, where it came to mingle with her own. Blossom found an odd sort of relief in seeing her sister resting motionless again. Compared to her semi-conscious state, this was far easier to cope with.

Eyes narrowed, she looked inside Buttercup's head, focusing on the injury. Her eyes widened as she noticed snaky tendrils extending from the shard. Staring intently, she tried to get a handle on how wide spread they were. As she did so, she noticed something alarming.

They were growing. Right before her eyes, they continued to grow out slowly from the shard, winding deeper into her sister's brain.

Blossom caught herself before she gasped again or otherwise showed her panic. By now, Professor had finished strapping their sister down, even clamping her head in a vise he slung up from underneath the table.

He stopped to look at his girls. Bubbles finished wrapping Blossom's arm and faced him as well. He spoke in a tone of voice Blossom had never heard before. It had a solemn ring of responsibility to it. "I think it's time for you girls to step out of the room."

For one of the few times in her life, Blossom stepped aside to allow her father to save the day. She and Bubbles walked out, arm-in-arm, though it was uncertain if either was leading the other.

Stopping at the door, Blossom turned around to say, "I'm sorry I couldn't fix the light." All the calm had left her voice, which quivered as her eyes teared up.

Professor's composure began to leave him as well. His jaw quivered before he replied, "I know, sweetie."

The two Utonium girls walked a short distance down the corridor. Far enough they might be spared some of the sounds pouring through the open doorway, but close enough to respond to their father's cries if needed.

Blossom stopped them at what she thought was a good point, and they sat down on the floor. They rested their backs against the wall, Blossom sitting closer to the medical bay.

There was silence for another minute or two. Blossom jumped and squinted her eyes shut when the bone saw whirred to life. Blind, she fumbled for Bubbles's hand and squeezed it tightly. Bubbles squeezed right back, and they both gripped all the harder when they heard it whine and grind against its target.

It was impossible to block out the noise. Impossible to focus on anything else. As Blossom was struggling with this, she was struck with the inspiration to sing. Something to keep her and Bubbles distracted. But what did she know the words to? "Twinkle Twinkle?" Her favorite TV show's theme song?

There was one song. She'd sung it solo on stage in the third grade. Could she still remember the words?

"Am--" she started, barely a whisper. "Ama--" again, too weak. She mustered up her strength and tried a third time.

"Amazing grace, how sweet...the sound," she winced at the inappropriate lyrics, but nudged Bubbles to encourage her to join in. Together, they continued, finding strength in each other's voices.

"That saved a wretch, like me! I once was lost, but now am found...."

They continued on like this even as the bone saw stopped. "Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail, and mortal life shall cease." Blossom's fear grew as they neared the last verse. Dare they stop? Would Bubbles take the lead with another song?

In the end, they returned to the first verse and sang it again. Then a third time.

Around the fourth time, Blossom found her voice growing weary.

During the fifth round, she opened her eyes for the first time since the bone saw had started up what seemed like an eternity ago. She found Bubbles leaning her head comfortably against the wall, her eyes closed, smiling softly as she sang.

Blossom determined she'd have to be strong to keep that smile on her sister's face, but the mere sight of it caused her voice to waver. Bubbles opened her eyes when she heard this change. Blossom finally stopped singing, and Bubbles followed suit.

Blossom wanted to say something. Or at least start singing again. She was at a loss, and the look of concern Bubbles was offering was comforting and inviting. In the end, Blossom closed her eyes again and started tearing up. The two of them half-turned from their sitting position to awkwardly embrace.

A few moments of silent tears later, Blossom was starting to feel renewed when she felt Bubbles tense up, her grip tightening.

The first thought that crossed her mind was that her carelessness had ended up pointing Bubbles's gaze straight down the hall. The second was that something bad must have happened.

Bubbles tried to stand, leading Blossom up as she went. Bubbles jogged to the open doorway, Blossom close behind.

The arrived to find their father sitting on the floor. He'd tried to compose himself (probably when his daughters stopped singing), but his recent tears were evident.

Bubbles half ran, half fell into her father's arms, where she cried with such force Blossom was overpowered by it. Her wails, her screams, were so unbridled that it was as if any display of mourning on Blossom's part would be an affront to it.

Feeling empty in a way she'd never experienced, Blossom looked at Buttercup once more. Hoping there had been some mistake, she watched her sister's heart for the slightest motion and saw nothing.

Several moments later, amidst Bubbles's cries of anguish, Blossom turned around and walked out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

[Haunted - Roof]

They spoke little during their return trip. Blossom said just enough to keep them on course. She made no attempt at repairs, or learning how to go about doing so. Bubbles largely sat quietly, looking at the stars pass by outside. A certain weight seemed to have fallen on Professor's face. It was almost blank, but had a subtle sadness to it. Whenever his eyes weren't turned to the controls, they were cast downward at nothing in particular.

During their second day of travel, Blossom quietly reported that they were within communications range of the outpost. Professor asked to be relayed through to Lieutenant Greevok, who was posted several sectors away.

While they waited, the ship continued to drift to the station. They had another few hours ahead of them before they docked.

"Greetings, Mister Professor," the lieutenant's voice rang out from the Professor's console. "I'm afraid you've caught me at a rather inconvenient time. Can this wait?"

"We're docking at Outpost 57 in the Epsilon sector," Professor said flatly. "Our ship is heavily damaged. Please arrange for transport back to Earth as soon as you're able."

"Giving up the hunt?"

"My daughter is dead. One ship is destroyed. We're going home."

The lieutenant was silent for several moments. "My condolences. I will have someone contact you at the station with all haste."

"Thank you," Professor said, closing the channel before the lieutenant could respond.

Blossom slowly turned to face him. His attention was still drawn to his console.

"So...that's it?" Blossom said flatly. "We're just...going to go home now? Give up?"

Professor looked up at her weakly. Bubbles turned her gaze from the window to observe the conversation.

"Can we talk about this later?" Professor asked.

"Later?" Blossom asked, the weak tone to the Professor's voice infecting her own. "Later we'll be home. What's the point then?"

Professor shook his head slightly. "No. We're going home. That is my decision and it is final. No discussion."

"But...." Blossom had been about to ask "why," but that would've been fruitless. "What about the other two ships? They should be a piece of cake compared to...." she trailed off.

After a pause, he responded, "Let the Telorians worry about them. This is clearly...not our element, Blossom."

Blossom nodded gently and turned to her console for what would likely be the last time.

The events that followed were little more than a blur to her. They docked and were immediately met by a Telorian who helped them move over to a transport ship. Professor left the girls for a moment to make arrangements to transport Buttercup's body with them.

Blossom spent most of the trip either sleeping or pretending to sleep. Sometimes she heard Bubbles and the Professor talking, but somehow managed to hear none of it. Instead she played through the events of that day over and over again. Had she kept looking, she could have found a hundred different things she could have done better. Choices she could have made. Ways she could have prepared herself. Parting words other than an argument.

One time she awoke to find Bubbles sleeping curled in her arms on the small, uncomfortable bed. She heard Professor speaking to someone.

"Please, nothing that elaborate. I don't think we could take that," he said.

After a pause, he continued, "Yes, just a little private ceremony. Discreet.

"No, cremation.

"Yes, I'm certain.

"I'm worried about people trying to steal her body away.

"You wouldn't see it as paranoia from my point of view. There are people who would literally kill for a chance to study it.

"Thank you, Sara.

"I'll leave that up to you.

"Yes, that will be fine.

"Thank you. You've been a great help.

"Yes, you too. Goodbye."

Professor sighed deeply. He walked into the room and noticed Blossom staring at him. His mouth twitched in the barest effort of a smile before he laid on the floor beside the bed.

Blossom considered separating herself from Bubbles and talking to her dad, but instead she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep again.

Near Earth, they changed crafts one last time. This time they loaded onto a small drop shuttle. Three aliens carried a container on board after she and her family were strapped into their seats. It was a sort of metal coffin, with a transparent top to allow for viewing.

After securing it to the floor, the aliens turned to the Utonium family. Apparently they had tried to briefly study Earth customs, as one of them bowed, another saluted, and the third flashed the peace sign.

Any another time, Blossom would have been touched. Or at least amused. Instead, she regarded her sister's body. No effort had been made to clean her up or conceal her from view. Probably to avoid a potential cultural faux pas out of ignorance of Earth's ways.

It was almost fitting. Nearly a week had passed, yet Buttercup hadn't changed any more than Blossom had moved on. Nearly bald, covered in dry blood, and with her brain left exposed.

One detail had changed, Blossom noted. The shard had been cut short. It was a nice, clean cut just above the brain's surface.

She turned her attention to the Professor. His hand was in the pocket of his coat. She looked inside to see his thumb absently rubbing the four inch piece that had been cut off.

Curiosity satisfied, she stared at the ceiling as they descended. So the Professor had found a souvenir, apparently. Something real to hold on to. It wasn't a bad idea, she thought.

They touched down and the pilot opened the doors for them. The sun was annoyingly bright. Blossom remained seated as the Professor stepped out of the shuttle. After Bubbles unstrapped herself, she wordlessly walked over to Blossom and undid her restraints for her.

Shortly after, the Professor, an elderly man in black priest garments, and two teenagers in white robes came in and picked up the coffin. Bubbles took Blossom's hand and the two followed after.

Blossom squinted, the sun being far brighter now that she was outside again. The shuttle doors closed behind them and the craft lifted off. They were apparently in a small, dusty, middle-of-nowhere town. The streets were clear of anyone other than themselves, and given the heat she could understand why.

They were led into a slightly cooler, much dimmer building nearby. "Wait here, girls," Professor said as he disappeared through some curtains in the back with the other three men, coffin in hand.

Blossom glanced around briefly. Based on appearances and Professor's earlier conversation, this must be a funeral parlor/crematorium.

"We're having the funeral today?" Blossom asked absentmindedly as Bubbles led to her sit down near the front.

"Yeah," Bubbles whispered back, hushed by the gravity of the place. "We told you twice before."

Blossom glared at the ceiling for a moment. Bubbles didn't have to answer. Blossom had just been musing aloud to herself. Hoping to avoid further conversation, she passed on the opportunity to point out she was already on top of things, thankyouverymuch.

"It's too bad our friends couldn't come," Bubbles said, not willing to let Blossom pass back into silence so easily.

"I'm sure we'll have a public service when we're ready," Blossom said distantly, still staring at the ceiling. "Not like it could have ever been open casket anyway."

Bubbles, unseen, regarded her sister with a mix of hurt and pity. The two of them sat in silence until the four men returned, placing a new, wooden casket on a conveyor that fed through the wall. The clergyman dismissed the two boys and Professor came to sit by his girls. Bubbles scooted over to give him room to sit between them.

Blossom lowered her gaze from the ceiling to watch the ceremony. She made herself pay attention to the words. She wondered if someone long ago had determined just the right quantity of words to neither disrespect the departed with too few nor bear down on the living with too many.

They were asked to pay their final respects, and went to the front as one. Bubbles and Professor bowed their heads in silence, closing their eyes both out of respect and to stem their tears. Blossom regarded the casket coolly, if sullenly. She claimed her sense of closure by using her penetrating vision to confirm that her sister was indeed in the casket.

After a while, the Professor nodded to the clergyman, who said a few more words before starting the casket's slow trek. Blossom looked into the next room to see that the flames had been ignited. She stole one final, awkwardly angled glance at Buttercup's face before staring at the floor.

The clergyman spoke quietly to the Professor. "You're welcome to spend the night here. There's a small bedroom downstairs. Sara said she'd be here tomorrow to pick you up."

"We can fly," Blossom said softly.

"It's okay, sweetie," Professor said softly in reply, rubbing her back gently. The gesture felt awkward and uncomfortable for her.

A few more empty words were exchanged, and they were led downstairs. Part of the basement had been walled off to create a small living space. There was a twin size bed along with two sleeping bags someone had kindly rolled out for just this occasion.

Blossom sat in a rickety wooden chair beside a small desk, clasping her hands and staring at the floor, once again lost in thought. Bubbles eventually interrupted her thoughts to bring her a large coffee mug full of steaming soup and a handful of crackers. Blossom nodded her thanks, crushed and sprinkled in the crackers, and slowly consumed it.

When Bubbles came by later to take the cup away, what little remained was cold. Blossom noticed that Professor had undressed to his underwear and was climbing into the twin-sized bed. Bubbles led her sister over to the two sleeping bags, which she had at some point zipped into one.

As Bubbles wrapped herself around her sister and kissed her forehead goodnight, Blossom mused that over the last few days she'd become quite a competent teddy bear. All Blossom had to do was sit still and be cuddled. Even she couldn't screw that up.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

[A Lullaby For Two]

Blossom awoke in the middle of the night. A consequence of her poor sleeping habits of late. She carefully extracted herself from Bubbles to search for a bathroom.

She regretted her difficulties staying focused, wondering if she'd been shown the bathroom when her mind was elsewhere. She assumed it would be upstairs in any case.

On her way to the stairs she glanced around, shedding a dim, harmless red light from her eyes to light her way. She found the restroom with little difficulty, passing through the chapel area to reach it.

On her way back, she noticed a cardboard box behind the podium with Utonium written on the side.

She paused, regarding the box for a moment. Eventually she wandered over to it, kneeling down to pull open the criss-crossed flaps. She let her eyes grow dark, relying instead on the cool, pure moonlight streaming in. There was a small metallic urn inside, though in the dim light it was hard to guess its color. Blossom sighed and bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "I know this is all my fault," she continued, her voice picking up and echoing through the chapel. "I was the one who suggested the trip. I was the one who thought we could get the job done with that rust bucket. I was the one that let us get overwhelmed in the fight. I was the one that made you have to go out there and save us in the first place. I was the one that didn't stop you. I was too weak and stupid to do anything to help you other than cut your hair. I failed as a hero, I failed as a leader, and.... And I failed as your sister."

Blossom put her hand on the urn's lid and smiled. "You did great. A little reckless, maybe, but who am I to judge? You were the real hero that day. The rest of us owe you our lives. I'll never forget that."

She bent forward to kiss the urn, but noticed something else in the box. She slowly backed her head up and noticed the play of moonlight on complex, glossy surface. Carefully she reached in and plucked it up between her thumb and forefinger. It wasn't until she held it in front of a patch of light and saw its outline that she recognized it.

She jumped, dropping the tendril-covered shard and putting her hand over her heart to keep it from beating out of her chest. The thing fell into a patch of moonlight on the floor, and Blossom watched it for several moments to be sure it wouldn't start scuttling away.

She glanced in the box again to be sure there wasn't still some of it left in there, and with the harsh red light of her eyes she saw a small note tucked into the corner of the box, written on chapel stationary.

"Again, we are profoundly sorry for your loss. May God carry us all through this hardship.

"The object remained intact and did not damage the cremator. I apologize. My fears and offer to remove it before the cremation may have been inappropriate.

"Should you ever need to speak with me, my phone number is--"

Blossom looked up from the note to the lifeless piece of metal on the floor. It looked sort of like a sea urchin, except less regular, more curving. She knelt before it and gingerly reached out.

It felt slightly cool, firm, and smooth. Not in the least dangerous. Perhaps a few thousand degrees for a few hours had been quite enough to put a stop to it. Although, judging from its small size, its growth must have stopped by the time Buttercup passed.

She scooped it up in her hand, letting the flat side rest in her palm. She held it up to the moonlight and stared at it curiously. Raising her other hand, she ran her fingertip over one of the tendrils. It was so smooth. Organic. She could see how Professor would have enjoyed rubbing his piece.

It was so strange. This little thing had been so intertwined with her sister's life that her passing had stopped it as well. Stranger still was the thought of running her finger along something that had dug into her sister's brain. This thing had been inside of her. A part of her.

She continued to caress the tendrils, feeling no fear or malice towards the thing. After all, it was only ever a hunk of spaceship.

With a soft smile and a sad sigh, she returned to the cardboard box. However, before dropping off the object, she regarded the urn and wondered whether it was any less strange. Some people kept those in their homes. Even prominently on display. Was the object really that much stranger? Besides all that, Professor already had a memento of his own.

A short while later, Blossom crawled back into the sleeping bag, drifting back to sleep with a small smile on her face, feeling absolved.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

[Innocent Times]

Early the next afternoon, Ms. Sara Bellum stopped in front of their home to drop them off. She'd offered some token condolences. Blossom admitted they were probably quite genuine, but they meant no more to her than those of Sara's cousin, the clergyman. Still, Blossom smiled and waved her off after they stepped outside.

Returning home was strange for Blossom. In many ways her sister's passing had yet to fully sink in. It felt more as if Buttercup was just out running an errand.

"You girls should rest up," Professor said once he closed the door behind them. "I'll talk to your teacher about a little time off."

"Are you sure?" Blossom asked, leaning against the back of the couch. "We've only got about a month of school left."

"True, but you girls should still take some time for yourselves. No one would expect this to be easy for any of us. I'm sure Buttercup would like us to get back to our lives, but I'm not going to push you back out there as if nothing had happened. We could all use a little time for ourselves."

Bubbles smiled wistfully. "I'm sure Buttercup would've jumped at the chance to miss some school."

Professor smiled back. "That's the spirit, honey." He paused to reflect on his own responsibilities, which he couldn't afford to shirk off. "I'm going to be spending some time in the lab, making phone calls...preparing statements.... Just remember I'm here if you need me."

His girls just smiled back in response and let him wander off. Bubbles turned her attention toward Blossom, seeming to struggle for something to say.

"Well, I'll be in my room," Blossom quickly excused herself. If Bubbles needed someone to talk to, she could bug the Professor. Despite her earlier complaints, Blossom was actually looking forward to an opportunity to slack off. For the first time in ages she entertained the idea of being beholden to no one but herself.

Point in case, the glossy black object perched on the books adorning her headboard, tucked out of casual view. It had been a simple matter to fly away from the chapel to stash it here, even in the middle of the night. Here they could circle their world in seconds. Move mountains. Walk away from explosions that would leave lake-sized craters. Here, they were safe.

Blossom scanned the books behind her bed and pulled out one she'd first read two years ago. It seemed so long ago she could barely remember how the story progressed.

She kicked off her shoes, laid down on her bed, and started reading, losing herself in another world whose problems were not hers to solve.

About forty pages later, she heard her father's firm knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, closing the book with her finger acting as a bookmark.

Her door opened just enough for Professor to poke his head inside. "Mrs. Jones said to take as much time as you'd like." After a pause, he asked, "What do you think? A week? Maybe two?"

"Yeah, sure," Blossom said offhandedly, though in her mind she was blowing him off rather than making any decisions.

"Okay. I'm thinking of ordering some food tonight. Anything in particular you'd like?"

"Surprise me," she said in the same false tone, smiling pleasantly.

Professor nodded and withdrew. Another fifty pages in, she heard Bubbles call out, "Pizza's here!"

Blossom rolled her eyes, dog-eared a page in her book, and set it aside. The sun was starting to fade. She'd have to turn on the light to read when she got back.

"Mind if I eat in my room?" Blossom asked as she loaded her plate.

"Uh.... Well, no. I guess not," Professor said. "Bubbles and I are going to watch a little TV if you'd like to join us."

"Nah," Blossom said. "Thanks, though," she added, already leaving the room.

While she ate, she sat and looked idly around her room, allowing her body to rest after the many awkward positions she'd been reading in. Compared to her sisters' rooms, it seemed so small and empty. No posters adorned the walls. She always kept it tidy. Her small desk by the window was the only thing to ever show any clutter.

After finishing her meal, she wiped her hands with a napkin and set her plate on the floor. With another napkin, she carefully picked up the object from her headboard, her other hand taking out the clergyman's note she'd tucked underneath. She wondered if she'd get in trouble for all this, but figured she could cross that bridge later.

The note she stuffed between a pair of books. The object she let rest in her palm. It still seemed beautiful to her in its own right. Pure. Untarnished. Its graceful curves belied the terror it had caused.

What had caused it to react as it did, she wondered? Maybe tying its inert state to Buttercup's death was a tad too poetic for reality. For all she know it had just run out of power.

She rested her hand over it, wrapping her fingers in the tendrils. It didn't respond to her warm hands in the least, remaining as hard and motionless as ever.

Smiling, she put the object back in its place, turned on her light, and continued reading.

When she was nearly finished with the book, Professor knocked on her door again.

"Everything all right, sweetie?" he asked through the closed door.

"Yeah," Blossom replied curtly.

"All right," he said. After a pause, he added, "Good night, honey."

Blossom glanced at her alarm clock. It was almost ten o'clock. It seemed her internal clock was somewhat in sync with local time, because she was starting to get tired, too.

With only another twenty pages to go, Blossom decided to finish the book before calling it a night.

A few pages in, her eyes felt dry, and blinking no longer helped.

A few pages later, she struggled for a few seconds to recognize the word "conflagration."

A few pages later, her eyelids were half open, eyes still gliding over the words without taking them in.

Finally, she let her drooping eyelids close fully.

"Blossom!"

She opened her eyes and sat up. There was no one in the room, but she thought she'd heard a small, urgent voice call out her name.

She rubbed her eyes and looked around the room again, but she was definitely alone.

With a halfhearted sigh of frustration, she set her unfinished book aside and dressed down for the night. Now that she'd awoken from almost-sleep, she knew it would take her a long time to pass out again. Sometimes it was easier to fall asleep when one wasn't trying.

The voice didn't bother her much. She'd read up on those kinds of things years ago. Night terrors, sleep paralysis, and other assorted oddities that happened when your brain didn't shut down for the night in the right order. Like when passing out while reading a book, for example.

Bubbles in particular had problems with sleep terrors in the past. Before they'd moved to separate bedrooms, it had been annoying at times for her to literally shoot out of bed to get away from a spider she'd imagined crawling on the ceiling.

"The mind does strange things," Blossom muttered, yawning after she spoke.

Safe in her bed, she waited for the silence and darkness to claim her.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

[Into The Depths Of Self Discovery]

Blossom was dreaming. She could usually tell right away, but this time her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Buttercup sitting on the other side of the school cafeteria, staring blankly at her.

Deciding it might be interesting to head her way, to enjoy the pleasure of at least dreaming about the departed, Blossom started pushing her way through the crowd between them.

As is often the way with dreams, when Blossom lost sight of her goal through the sea of bodies, her mind drifted elsewhere. The cafeteria seamlessly became a crowded shopping mall.

Smiling at the idea of being in the mall, she did what she often did when dreaming of this place and made a beeline for the book store. Sometimes she'd have dreams about new and interesting books. Sequels that had never been written, or about topics that were new and interesting. Usually upon awakening she'd either forget the details or decide the idea wasn't nearly as enthralling as it had been during the dream, but it was usually a great source of comfort and entertainment.

She wandered through the winding shelves, scanning them for anything that caught her eye. As she worked her way back to the front of the store she saw Buttercup waiting on the bench outside, staring at her with that same expressionless face.

Blossom smiled at her, then turned back to her book hunt, not yet wanting to be distracted and leave this part of the dream.

Finally she spotted the book, with its pretty blue and white cover. Somehow she knew it signified snow, and somehow she recognized the contents without even opening it.

Before long, she was taken out of her own dream, instead watching as if viewing a movie. The book was about a drifter with boyish good looks, who was secretly heir to an interstellar empire. He traveled with a clumsy android, a primitive barbarian of a man, and a tomboyish girl he'd once saved from a forced marriage. They were climbing frozen mountains in search of an ancient computer. Nestled there, they found a grand, quiet city.

As Blossom, disembodied, watched them walk through the central square, out of the corner of her eye she saw Buttercup standing down an otherwise vacant branch of the road, arms crossed, still staring at her.

As Blossom began to find her body again, she drifted closer to Buttercup. When her feet found the ground, her progress halted. The cobblestones may as well have been the slickest ice. As she thought of this, she looked up to see she was standing on a frozen lake, while Buttercup sat in a boat that somehow floated away on the ice, drifting farther into the fog and night as Blossom scrambled to run after and keep her footing.

For no discernible reason, Blossom sat in a booth in a small diner, all thoughts of her previous dreams having fled without a trace. Golden morning rays filtered through the windows, and she eagerly awaited her waffles and hash browns.

A young couple walked past her, smiling and waving at her. She smiled and waved back, soon spotting Buttercup on the other side of the counter, standing in the kitchen, arms crossed again.

Unwilling to surrender her seat, but slightly worried Buttercup would get in trouble and embarrass both if them if she stayed back there, Blossom motioned for Buttercup to come to her.

Buttercup didn't react in the slightest. Blossom looked around, hoping to spot any potential booth thieves that would come by to steal her place and eat her breakfast. Seeing none for the moment, she chanced getting to her feet and walked over to the counter. She didn't dare go around it. The waitress standing by the cash register would definitely see her if she tried to do that.

Yet somehow it didn't seem risky at all to lean over the counter and stretch out her arm, again waving Buttercup closer so Blossom could take her hand and pull her out. But she dare not call out to her sister, for that would be terribly rude.

Another waitress stepped out of the kitchen with a plate of food in hand, ignoring Blossom's desperate motions. Blossom turned around and found her fears confirmed with another young couple having stolen her booth away and waiting for the waitress to bring her plate.

Exasperated tears in her eyes, Blossom waved harder still for Buttercup to come out, mouthing words she dare not say aloud, pleading for her to just come back. Blossom would forgive Buttercup for making her miss out on her meal, just so long as her sister would get out of that kitchen before someone caught her.

Even as she continued to wave, she became aware that this, too, was a dream. The sensation that she was lying in bed continued to grow until she opened her eyes and the dream of the diner had faded away. Now bright white sunlight poured into her room. She read her alarm clock again. It was 10:40, now. She was completely late for school!

Climbing out of bed, she hurried through her door, not dressing yet somehow dressed. Despite their tardiness, Bubbles was only just putting on her blue backpack, making dad bend over slightly so she could kiss him on the cheek, and then rushing out the door.

Buttercup was sitting on the couch, watching television. Blossom worried about them all being late and fretted that her family couldn't keep anything in order when she wasn't there to keep them moving.

Walking to the door, her father having disappeared, Blossom intended to grab her backpack and leave, too. Buttercup should know very well how late it was. They never had time to watch television on a school morning, so....

Of course. Buttercup was dead now, wasn't she?

Blossom looked back to Buttercup. She was still staring at the TV. Maybe she didn't know Blossom was here. This time maybe she could sneak up, get close before she went away.

Blossom slowly crept up behind the couch. She was close. She could almost reach out and touch her sister's soft, bedraggled black hair. In fact, she almost did so when she was distracted by something out of the corner of her eye.

She looked up to the black television screen to see Buttercup's reflection staring back at her. After a moment, Blossom wondered why, if it was a reflection, she didn't see herself in the image as well. When she finally did spot herself, she noticed she was in front of Buttercup's reflection, not behind it.

Turning around in a panic, she saw Buttercup standing right beside her, staring at her expressionlessly.

Blossom woke to a chill, tight feeling in her stomach. The sensation was nuanced enough (along with the feel of the pillow under her head, the dryness of her eyes as she opened them, and the sweatiness of her back) that there was no doubt in her mind she'd woken up for real.

She berated herself for feeling so uneasy. It honestly wasn't even a scary dream. Buttercup wasn't menacing or creepy at all. Even the bit at the end was just slightly weird.

Flipping aside her covers, Blossom sat upright, feeling a little woozy as she did so. She needed to air out her back, and if she was up anyway she might as well use the restroom before heading back to bed. Walking around a little would help her clear the cobwebs away and get a fresh start on new, better dreams.

Still, it would have been nice to talk to Buttercup again. Even if only in a dream.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

[Sanctuary]

To Blossom's disappointment, Buttercup had no cameos in her dreams over the next several days. During her waking hours, Blossom spent the majority of her time in her room reading. She considered pulling out her laptop and catching up on things, but it somehow seemed like an awful lot of work.

The rest of her time she spent seeing to her basic needs. Nourishment, hygiene, and, of course, constantly assuring her father that she was doing fine. Bubbles, at least, seemed to be leaving her alone.

Less than a week after their return to earth, Blossom sat in on Buttercup's memorial service. On such short notice, there weren't many people outside of Townsville who could make it. Blossom rather preferred it that way. If, say, the President had shown up, no doubt he'd have to make a speech of his own and drag the whole thing out even longer. Were she still alive, Buttercup would've loathed the thought.

Still, Blossom found the idea that Buttercup would be bored out of her mind waiting for her own funeral to end to be somewhat amusing.

Apparently she'd giggled or something, because Bubbles leaned over and whispered, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just.... Can you imagine if Buttercup were here?" Blossom deepened her voice a bit to mock their departed sister's mannerisms. "'C'mon, people, what's taking so long?' 'Gawd, this is so boooring.' 'Hey, didn't that guy already talk earlier? This is gonna take forever!'"

The idea seemed infectious, because Bubbles started to laugh. She also started to cry, but put her arm around Blossom's shoulder and rocked her gently to show her understanding and appreciation.

Blossom sat in the front row. Her father sat to one side, beside the center aisle. To her other side sat Bubbles and Ms. Bellum. They were in a hastily-erected blue pavilion that housed hundreds of people. These fortunate few would remain dry if the rain they feared came during the ceremony. The crowd outside was forced to watch on the big screens there, while others viewed it from the comfort of their own homes.

As the service wore on, Blossom briefly wished she could afford to be as tactless as to express her own boredom. She didn't, though. It was enough to keep Buttercup's spirit in her mind and heart. There was no sense in recreating her.

Nearly everyone spoke. The Mayor (what little he could before he broke down and Ms. Bellum finished for him), the Professor, the current chief of police, the previous chief of police, some random kindergärtner someone thought would be adorable and inspiring, and a few other people Blossom wouldn't have known at all if not for Ms. Bellum introducing them first.

Blossom was not surprised at the amount of tears being shed. Nor was she particularly surprised to shed none of her own. As far as she was concerned, the worst of it was over for her. She'd felt her pain, said her peace, and accepted that Buttercup was never coming back. That's all there was to it, right?

After yet another moment of silence (for some reason two or three people saw fit to call for one during their speech), the official, structured part of the ceremony was ended. This freed everyone to leave, mingle, or otherwise move on.

Blossom knew she had to find a peaceful, quiet spot quickly or be inundated with condolences, encouragement, and "if there's anything I can do"s.

"I need to use the restroom," Blossom said. Professor bobbed his head, lips carefully sealed tight lest he lose composure again. Blossom had to admit Ms. Bellum's closing speech was very well done. She'd have to remember to thank her for that once everything settled down.

Blossom slipped outside the pavilion and took flight, alighting on a nearby rooftop. Wanting to be able to zip back in if Bubbles or the Professor started wondering about her absence, she watched the goings-on from a distance with her penetrating vision until she was nearly cross-eyed.

Her concentration so focused, she was surprised when someone spoke out from behind her.

"Well, well, well," Princess's snide tone rang out. Blossom unconsciously winced. "One little family tragedy and you start playing Batman? Do you plan to put on a scary mask and rule the nights with fear?"

Rather than being angry, Blossom smiled. As far as she was concerned, she was still off duty right now. She didn't have to give a damn what Princess said.

"Whatever," Blossom said, bored, weakly waving her hand.

Upset that she didn't have Blossom's undivided attention, Princess stomped over to the edge of the roof and made a point of looming over her.

Blossom briefly widened her eyes in annoyance and sighed deeply. She leaned to the side and craned her neck lazily to look up at Princess. Patches of sunlight struggled fiercely to pierce the omnipresent cloud cover, brightening spots here and there but always failing to break through.

Yet even those weak spots of golden light easily put Princess's mockery of a super-suit to shame, in Blossom's estimation. Certainly it had undergone some revisions over the years, but gold was just so...garish.

"You're supposed to be the smart one or something, right?" Princess asked. "Well, if that's really the case, then you should already know why I'm here."

Blossom smiled as pleasantly as she'd ever smiled at Princess. Probably several orders of magnitude more pleasantly, for that matter.

"Princess," Blossom addressed her, pausing before continuing. "I neither know nor, for that matter, _care_ why you're here. So whatever it is, you may as well stop wasting our time and go home."

"Listen here, missy," Princess threatened, bending over and grabbing a fistful of Blossom's shirt. "Your little 'team' is due for a roster change. You're down one girl. I'm available. Besides, at this rate you'll be lucky to be the PowerPuff _Girl _by the time you turn eighteen."

Blossom scowled at Princess for a moment, but then softened up and smiled again.

After all, she was on sabbatical. She didn't have to play this game any more. Certainly not by the same old, tiresome rules.

"Princess," Blossom said, taking Princess's hand softly and easing it away from her shirt. Princess seemed reluctant, but eventually cooperated and softened her grip. "That's never going to happen, and I'll tell you exactly wh--"

Princess interrupted her, pulling her hand away and bending sideways, sending Blossom flying across the rooftop with a strong kick. Crashing into the short wall edging the roof slowed her down, and she shopped short of falling off.

"She's gone, you idiot," Princess shot at her as Blossom slowly stood up. "That's how the working world works. You get good people, you lose good people, and you replace them. You need to grow up and get used to the idea."

Blossom started walking slowly across the roof, her face still at ease and her movements nonthreatening.

Princess continued her rant, "You know sometimes even the three of you had it rough. With one down, everyone's going to be all over you. I'm doing you a favor offering to take the two of you under my wing after all you've put me through."

Blossom smiled, reaching out slowly for Princess's hand again. "Let me put it this way," she said.

When their fingers touched, Princess swatted her hand away. Blossom sneered, stuck her leg between Princess's, pushed her in the chest, and toppled her onto her back. Blossom fell on top of her, pinning her down with one arm and grabbing at her hand again with the other. She interlocked their fingers to keep Princess from pulling away again.

The roof beneath them began to crack and groan under the strain, but Blossom knew that with Princess's suit she hardly felt it and could easily escape it.

"What's with the hand-holding fetish, you perv?" Princess sneered.

Blossom, pulled their hands closer, so Princess could see them out of the corner of her eye as she replied.

"Maybe I should do you a favor and show you what this feels like," Blossom said smoothly, with honey in her voice. "If I plucked," Blossom started. As she continued speaking, she playfully rocked her and Princess's hand from side to side with every word, "every little finger from this hand." She stopped rocking their hands. "I bet that'd be easy for you to understand. With your kind of money you could get new fingers, couldn't you? But I bet that just wouldn't be the same, now would it?"

Princess sneered. "I'd like to see you try, girl scout."

"And besides that," Blossom said, leaning closer to the point of making Princess uncomfortable, "You'd never be half the hero she was." As she continued, her smile faded, and her eyes grew dangerously empty. "You would never give what she did. Sacrifice what she did. You're nothing but a spoiled, rotten little brat." As the venom in her voice grew, so did the caliber of her words, and the speed at which she delivered them. "Just a disgusting wannabe bitch whining about something you don't understand and will never deserve. A godforsaken attention whore everyone hates with all their might. Even your daddy's glad to throw money at you and let you raise hell just to get your sorry face the hell away of him!"

Princess grunted, ready to throw Blossom off, but Blossom spat in Princess's eye and stood up before she did so.

"That is sick!" Princess cried, pushing herself onto her knees and rubbing her eye.

Blossom narrowed her eyes, drew back her leg, and kicked.

Several seconds later, Princess crashed onto another rooftop two blocks away. Blossom shot over in a flash to find Princess rolling on the roof clutching the right side of her jaw with one and and covering her mouth with the other.

When she saw Blossom standing there, she stopping rolling and climbed to her feet. She spat out blood and started to speak, "I biff my fulkin tuh." She stopped to spit out a tooth she'd been trying to salvage. "Tongue," she clarified.

"Glad to hear it," Blossom said. "And just so you're warned, I'm taking a little break during my mourning period. So if you piss me off again, no more of this 'defender of the peace' crap. Just you, me, and finding out just what I'm capable of if I don't feel obligated to...restrain myself."

"Like you ever would," Princess shot back.

"Wanna bet?" Blossom replied coolly.

For several seconds, they just glared at each other. Satisfied, Blossom took flight to return to the pavilion. Princess spat out another mouthful of blood and glared in Blossom's general direction.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

[Remanences]

Blossom neither said nor heard anything regarding her encounter with Princess. By the time she returned to the pavilion, it wasn't long before Professor excused his family from the event. Back home, Blossom headed for her room without another word.

Feeling a bit invigorated by her brief, if satisfying tussle, Blossom pulled her laptop out of her desk drawer and opened it. While she waited for it to start, she snatched the object from her headboard and carried it over. She idly fondled it on the desk with one hand, mousing and keyboarding with the other, ready to push it out of sight if someone knocked on her door.

By the time she was up and running, however, she wasn't sure anymore that she wanted to do anything. Did she really want or need to touch base with her friends and pen-pals? She'd already waited this long. If she waited much longer, she'd also have to wade through a batch of "Sorry if I offended you" e-mails from the ones that would assume the worst of her silence.

The whole idea just wore her out before she even got started, and she finally admitted she still wasn't ready for any of this. She didn't care to check up on anything else, either. There was only one news story of any relevance to her life right now, and she didn't need anyone to tell her how that was going.

Blossom wondered if there was anything else she wanted to do before she put the laptop away, and remembered she still had a fairly large collection of photos on it. One of several pastimes she'd taken up and ultimately abandoned over the years was scrapbooking.

Sliding the object behind the laptop screen, safely out of sight, she started digging around for them. After thumbing through a few at random, she remembered that she'd experimented with an image recognition program to help her categorize them. It was far from perfect. In fact, Blossom had taken great pleasure in showing Buttercup a picture it had tagged as having her in it, even though the closest thing was a black bulldog in a green jersey.

Blossom smiled at the memory. Of course Buttercup had acted offended, but Blossom knew she thought it was pretty funny, too. In fact, she could almost imagine Buttercup relaying the story with a certain pride in her voice.

After a few minutes, she'd set up a slideshow screen saver with all the pictures of Buttercup she had on her computer. She tilted the laptop to get a better view of it from the bed, but waited to watch a few pictures go by before leaving her chair.

Ignoring the slide show for now, she crawled onto her bed and, while lying on her belly, tried to decide what book she'd start rereading today. Maybe next time she got on the laptop she'd order a new one. Rereading was comforting in its own right, but soon she'd be getting into things she still had a half-decent memory of and would probably grow bored with.

Before she'd made up her mind, she heard her dad's knock at her door again.

"Yeah?" she called out.

Professor opened the door and poked his head in. He smiled at the sight of his daughter perusing her books.

"So, how do you think everything went today?"

Blossom smiled, swiveled around to sit on her bed, and replied, "Just come in, dad. You look ridiculous that way."

Professor smiled and further opened the door, stepping into her room. He paused to glance at the new screen saver for a few moments before he continued speaking. "I was wondering how you felt about returning to school Monday."

"That's...four days away?" Blossom confirmed.

"Well, today is Thursday," Professor replied.

Blossom sighed deeply and stared at nothing in particular. "I guess we should, huh?"

A few moments later, Professor sat beside her. "I don't want to push anything, but the only way we're going to get through this is by getting back to our lives. Finding other things to do so we don't risk...dwelling on the past more than we should."

"Yeah," Blossom agreed quietly, still staring vacantly. "I was just enjoying not having to do anything for once."

Unseen, Professor smiled wistfully and fought back a mixture of tears and guilt. He put his arm around Blossom and pulled her close. Despite his unseen expression, he mustered up a steady voice to say, "It seems your sister's spirit lives on in you."

"Yeah, yeah," Blossom replied, smiling.

When Blossom said nothing further, Professor composed himself fully and prompted, "So, how about it?"

"Sure," Blossom said. "Monday sounds fine."

"Splendid," he replied. "As for crime-fighting, I'll leave that decision up to you. You know how I tend to botch things up when I get involved in that."

"Sure," Blossom replied again.

"I'll go let Bubbles know, then. She'll be happy to see more of you, you know. If you ever feel like stepping out, she'd love it if you paid her a visit."

Blossom half-closed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got it."

"All right. I'll just leave it at that, then." He patted her on the back and stood up. "You know where to find us. We'll let you know when supper's ready. Bubbles and I are making meatloaf tonight."

"Mmmm. Sounds good. I'll see you then."

Professor nodded gently. "Sure thing, honey." Then he was gone.

Blossom returned her attention to her headboard and quickly grabbed another book. Every few pages she gave her eyes a brief rest and watched the slideshow for a while. Eventually the screen went blank as the laptop dropped into sleep mode.

Sighing, she returned to her book. Due to the general gloom of the day, she had to turn on her lights much earlier, and so hardly noticed the time slip by. Drawn in by the book, other sounds drowned out by the rain outside, it wasn't until Bubbles called out her name from the kitchen that she was pulled from her reverie.

She left her room briefly, only to return to eat in solitude once again. As usual she ignored her book while the ate, and after a few minutes of stating blankly at the walls decided to resume the slideshow instead.

Turning around in her bed, she halted her approach when she spotted movement on the black screen.

Squinting, she crawled along her bed to get a better look. Setting her plate aside, she sat at her desk and pulled the screen closer. As she did so, she heard some small crackling, static noises come from the speakers. Tilting her head so she could better listen, she continued to stare at the faint image within the blackness.

After another minute of this, the noise stopped and the screen became still. A few moments later, Blossom woke the laptop but saw nothing unusual when the screen brightened to life.

A confused look on her face, she returned to her bed to eat and watch the slideshow as she'd planned. Afterwards, she resumed reading. When the screen went black again, she stared at it for several minutes, though nothing else happened.

By then, it was getting very late. She put her laptop away for the night and carried the object back to her headboard. Soon, she was drifting off to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

[I'm Here]

Blossom's dreams were peaceful. Once again Buttercup was in the background, watching. Sometimes Blossom tried to reach her, but she never succeeded.

When the light of dawn roused her from slumber, she stretched and lounged around until called down for breakfast.

Afterwards, settling back into bed, she began to read again. Feeling fidgety from all her inactivity, she reached behind her and pulled out the object. Holding the book over her head with one hand, she absently traced over the object with the other as it rested on her chest. Bathed in the rays of morning sun, it grew warm to the touch, but not hot.

As the hours wore on, she grew increasingly bored with her stories. Sighing wearily, she set the book aside, propped open to the page she'd stopped at. For a few minutes she gave her eyes some relief by staring at the ceiling. For a time she held the object down with one hand while she caressed it more firmly with the other, her fingers reveling in the smooth texture.

Later holding it over her head as she lay, she turned it end over end. Even all her contact had failed to tarnish its luster, leaving not a single grease smudge or fingerprint. It was marvelous. Absolute. Unending.

Her eyes danced around the delicate curves. How joyous it would be to ride along those curves, gentle and beautiful. To lose herself in a sea of eternal, unyielding blackness. It was like water, captured and frozen at its most elegant. It was the glory of a flock of birds unfurling their wings. It was the marriage of softness and solidity, of life and lifelessness. It was the enigma of the mind and soul made tangible, resting in her hand.

She almost dropped it when someone knocked on her door. Blossom scrambled to stash it back on the books of her headboard and called, "Come in."

Bubbles poked her smiling head around the door. "Dad and I are going out to eat for lunch." Her pleasant tone became cheeky as she added, "He says if you want to anything you have to come with."

Blossom felt somehow hurt that they'd try to force her away like that. It must have shown on her face, because Bubbles's cocky attitude fell flat.

"I guess you can eat leftovers or something," Bubbles added, mirroring Blossom's vague expression of betrayal and disillusionment. "But we're going soon, so.... You know. If you wanna come."

Blossom's mouth hung open as she wrestled with her characteristic urge to do what was expected of her and a strong desire to remain behind.

"'Kay," she said meekly, committing to nothing.

Bubbles smiled weakly, nodded, and left, closing the door behind her.

Blossom's chest still felt tight and uneasy from her internal struggle, but now that Bubbles was gone a feeling of peace was slowly settling over her again. She returned to her story once more.

A few minutes later, she again plucked the object from her headboard and set it on her chest, gently caressing as she read.

It wasn't long before hunger started to settle in. Her stomach began to feel both tight and hollow. Her grumbles were exceptionally loud, prompting her to press down on her stomach and muffle them. Her hand still held the object, so it was this she clutched tightly to her belly.

A few minutes later, the feeling of hunger had almost vanished and her body had grown tired of growling at her. In place of her discomfort was a pleasant sensation. Warm. Still tight, but no longer painful.

Her mouth hung open slightly as she read, her breath coming in shorter, more earnest spurts. Her hand cupped the object, pinching a tendril with her thumb and forefinger as she rubbed it.

She soon lost interest in her book again, letting it flop aside, where it closed and lost her place.

She sat up and held the object in both hands, holding it close to her face. Her breath left small patches of moisture that faded as quickly as they came. She stared at it, feeling, wanting.

Pulling it closer, she rubbed it around and on her lips, her eyes half-closed as she took in the smoothness, savoring its sweet touch. It drifted along, trailing over to her cheek where she cupped it and held it close. In stillness she sat for time immeasurable.

Until her stomach angrily demanded her attention again.

Her eyes opened and she looked down, perhaps mildly surprised to realize she still had a belly.

With utmost reluctance, she placed the object back on her headboard and wandered downstairs, making a plate of leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Her mind still slightly clouded, she had to pause to remember how to work their microwave.

Happy to have the house to herself for a moment, she started eating at the table. Early into the meal, she heard a car door close and wondered if her family had returned. Glancing outside, she saw it had only been a neighbor.

Halfway through her plate, she wondered whether she could easily steal away to her room if they returned during her lunch, or if she'd be compelled to spend the rest of the day with them.

Drawn back to her room, she carried her plate with her.

Soon after, with part of her meal still uneaten, she decided perhaps she hadn't been quite that hungry after all. She set the messy plate on the floor beside her bed and laid down, once more reaching for the object without any need to look for it.

Her book went ignored completely this time. Instead she placed the object on her chest, folding both hands together and cupping it. Staring at the ceiling, each time she blinked her eyelids lingered a bit longer, until she let them remain closed. Like this she rested, neither sleeping nor sleepy, but merely drifting along in tranquil serenity.

Later that evening, Bubbles called her out for supper. A distant voice that might have been Blossom's own replied, "I'm not hungry. Thanks!"

Eventually sleep did steal over her. Having never turned on her lights, there was no need to turn them off. Hardly aware of her body, there was no urge to undress, no imperative to crawl under the covers. Her eyes already closed, her mind slowly flitted away, piece by piece, until she found herself again in the realm of dreams.

Her dream was uncannily vivid. Once again she was in a cafeteria cobbled together from fragments of various schools. She already sat at one of the tables, though she wasn't certain who sat next to her, or what she was eating.

At the next table down, Buttercup sat, watching her. This time her face was not blank, but instead carried an expression of sad frustration.

Feeling concerned, Blossom walked around her table to sit across from Buttercup. She reached out to take Buttercup's hands in her own, but Buttercup did not reach out to accept them.

"What's wrong?" Blossom asked.

Buttercup's lips moved as if she replied, but no sound came out.

No. No, something came out. Something like the opposite of sound. A hole in her ears that blotted out even the noise of the cafeteria around her. Like pieces of sound went missing, swallowed up by Buttercup's flapping mouth.

"What's that?" Blossom asked. "I can't hear you."

Buttercup again tried to reply, her anxiety increasing. She seemed close to tears. Despite hearing no words, Blossom felt an undeniable sensation, like Buttercup was reaching out to her from somewhere far away. Blossom spread her outstretched arms, still resting on the table, as if somehow intending to hug her sister through the table that sat between them.

"Louder," Blossom prompted. "I still can't understand."

Blossom still was unable to hear, but the no-sound was different now. She could almost hear something with it. Like some foreign sound her ears had never experienced, and weren't entirely certain they were permitted or expected to do so.

Blossom grinned broadly, prompting her sister on. "Come on! That's it! Try a little harder!"

Buttercup started crying as she spoke, tears flowing down her cheeks as she looked on with a forlorn, helpless expression. Blossom waited for the sounds to come through. As she listened, she could almost feel the words trying to swim on the sea of muteness.

Smiling and nodding, feeling driven to tears herself, she continued listening. Slowly, she recognized there were indeed words somewhere in there. She heard them clearly now, but understood nothing, as if their meaning were hidden behind a gossamer veil.

Nodding still, she kept listening, kept waiting. The words began to bubble to the surface now, meaning and all. Blossom strained to listen as they came into focus.

Two words. There were two words. The same two, flowing one after the other in an endless litany. Blossom could almost see them now. The cafeteria slowly faded from sight and sound as the whole of her self yearned to simply hear her sister's words.

Was than "L"? An "E"?

L. E.

El. E.

Ehl E.

Hel. E.

Help me.

"Help me!" Buttercup finally screamed.

The sound jolted Blossom from her slumber. She stared at the moonlit ceiling, eyes darting around the room as her mind started to remember where she was.

Her head felt light and fuzzy, pulled from sleep as it had been. She allowed herself some deep breaths to calm herself and pull herself even further from sleep.

Feeling herself again, she swallowed and found her mouth uncomfortably dry. Smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth in a futile search for moisture, she sat up, tucking the object back on the headboard.

Returning after a drink of water, her growing hunger made her wish she hadn't skipped supper. Dressing down for the night, she started to slide under her covers.

Something soft hit the floor. She paused, pondering the noise.

She showed her recognition with a slow, wide nod. Leaning over to the other side of her bed, she picked up her long-forgotten book, tucking it back in its empty spot on the headboard.

Sliding under cover again, she stretched some of the stiffness from her muscles and waited patiently for sleep to return.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

[The Fog -- Part I]

Blossom opened her eyes quickly, no trace of tiredness in them. She felt like she'd been awake for a while, but only now realized it. She turned to her alarm and saw it was almost half-past-eight.

Today was Saturday. One lousy, ordinary weekend and she'd be back to school again. It seemed too soon.

Everything else she hoped she could put off a while longer. Townsville hadn't gone unprotected during their absence, with other heroes offering to step in on brief rotations while the girls were away. Of course, they were more than willing to stick around even after the Utonium family had returned, given the circumstances.

Knowing the call for breakfast was not far off, Blossom decided to take initiative for a change. After all, she couldn't keep slacking off forever.

Fully dressed and hair brushed, she piled her dirty clothes under one arm and picked up her dishes, including the day-old meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and set out.

"Good morning," Bubbles said when Blossom reached the kitchen, her surprise completely outshone by her pure, unadulterated joy at seeing Blossom appear without coaxing.

"Morning," Blossom said, smiling casually. She scooped her old food into the trash and rinsed her dishes (for what little good it did at this point).

Professor, who was already working on building up a nicely-stacked plate of French toast, turned to greet her as well. "Good morning, honey. Feeling better today?"

"Sure," Blossom replied flippantly. "So I guess we're going back to school Monday?"

"Yup," Bubbles replied, fidgeting in her chair, kicking her feet back and forth beneath her.

"You know," Professor started, pausing to soak another piece of bread. "You should consider spending a little time with your family before you go back. It might made the transition back to everyday life a bit less...sudden."

Before Blossom could respond, Bubbles asked, "Don't you get lonely or sad cooped up in your room? Or scared at night?"

Blossom frowned slightly, faking the appearance of honest thought, before shaking her head slowly and replying, "No, not really. I've just been reading my books."

"Well," Professor responded in a mocking tone, "even _I_ think that sounds _boring_. And that ought to mean something."

"Geez, dad, you're such a kid," Blossom replied bemusedly.

"Well, do you want to know what _we've_ been up to?" he asked in the same playful tone. With an exaggerated tone of momentousness, he rattled off, "We've been watching movies, playing games, planning meals, doing coloring books--"

"Wow," Blossom interrupted, giggling. "_You_ were doing coloring books?"

"Oh, it was loads of fun," Professor replied. "Besides, I have to learn to stay inside the lines one of these days. Plus, we went to the mall yesterday." He paused here for effect. "You know, I saw a new Cunningham novel in the display case."

"Uh-huh," Blossom said in her customary know-it-all tone. "And you've been in the lab, too, right? Unless something _else_ has been making the lights in the house dim."

Caught, Professor made a great show of sheepishness as he admitted, "Well, I suppose I've been spending some time there, too, I guess. Sort of."

"We've had some fun, though," Bubbles added, turning the conversation back to group activities. "You should really join us some time."

Blossom smiled and blinked slowly, deciding that perhaps the the pleasant side of isolation was beginning to wear thin these days. "Yeah. Maybe I will."

Having run out of egg mixture, Professor piled the last piece of French toast on the plate and carried it to the table. Conversation was dropped for a time, aside from the usual "could you pass me this or that" comments.

"So what have you been working on?" Blossom asked her father, deciding to break back into conversation before they beat her to it.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Oh...this and that. Nothing exciting."

"What have you been reading?" Bubbles asked.

"Oh, pretty much all my old story books. I'm starting to get sick of them."

"I found an old movie on DVD yesterday," Bubbles said. "Guess what it is?"

"Oh, I dunno.... The Wizard of Oz?"

"Nuh-uh. Guess again."

Pausing long enough to pretend she'd tried, Blossom said, "I give up. What is it?"

"Konah Kids," Bubbles said, beaming.

Blossom cocked an eyebrow sadly. "Konah Kids? We were, like, five when we saw that."

"Don't you think it'd be fun to watch it again?" Bubbles asked.

"Sorry, missy," Blossom replied, "if you want to lure me out of my room you'll have to try a little harder than that."

Out of curiosity, Blossom glanced at her father's pockets. His black shard wasn't there. "So, what'd you do with it?" Blossom asked, for a moment not realizing he'd have no idea what she was talking about.

"With what, sweetie?"

"You were rubbing it in your pocket on the shuttle ride," Blossom replied.

Professor drew in a sharp breath, opening his mouth to reply. Then he paused, glanced at Bubbles, and said, "Oh, nothing. It's downstairs. Um.... So, do you girls want to do anything special this weekend?"

"Nope," Blossom replied without missing a beat. "We spend our whole lives doing 'something special.' Taking it easy is something special enough, if you ask me." Realizing her tactlessness, she turned to Bubbles, cocked her head, and amended, "But that's just me."

The remainder of the meal, short though it was, was quiet. Professor hurried to finish his plate and excused himself. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a pair of twenty dollar bills, handing them to Bubbles after she licked the syrup from her plate.

"Why don't you head out to town and pick up a new board game. Maybe something Blossom would like to play?" he asked, looking meaningfully at her when he said the last.

"Sure," Blossom said, hoping she'd care enough to follow through with the promise to play.

"Sure thing, dad," Bubbles said, taking the offered money and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Do you wanna help me pick it out?" she offered to Blossom.

"Oh, I think she'd like the surprise," Professor said before Blossom could reply. "Now hurry along, and get something good."

"Okay," Bubbles said, beaming. "I'll be right back," she said, running through the front door, slamming it behind her, and taking flight.

"Blossom, could you come downstairs for a minute?" Professor asked.

"Um, sure," she replied, furrowing her brow in thought again. He started heading that way, and after rinsing off her plate, Blossom followed.

In the lab, Professor opened an overhead cabinet and pulled out a small glass jar. The other part of the object was sealed inside. It seemed so plain and straight compared to the piece on Blossom's headboard, but no less smooth and glossy.

"Is this what you were asking about?" he asked.

"Yeah. That's the thing that was in Buttercup's head, right?" Blossom asked.

A little taken aback by her casual attitude, Professor was off guard for a moment. Briefly cocking an eyebrow, he replied, "Yes. Part of it, at any rate. I asked Ms. Bellum's cousin to save the rest if he could, but it must have been destroyed in the cremation."

He stared at the little black shard in the glass jar for a moment. His mouth hung open waiting for him to provide words.

"You don't...think it strange of me, do you?"

Blossom smiled knowingly. "Not at all. That isn't what you've been working on, by any chance?"

Still hesitant, perhaps not quite comfortable with the idea of it himself, he answered, "Yes, actually. I know nothing I do now will bring your sister back, but.... I suppose this is how I'm finding my closure. Understanding the thing that killed her."

Blossom smiled softly, "It didn't kill her dad. It wasn't its fault. It was an accident."

Professor sighed heavily and nodded. Staring at the counter top, he replied, "I know. You're absolutely right. Still...."

"Yes?" Blossom prompted.

"Everything I've seen matches up with the information they provided us. In such a small volume, it's really nothing more than a piece of sturdy metal. Hardly enough to perform complex computations or react to its environment. But...." He looked at Blossom, confirming she still seemed comfortable with this potentially difficult conversation. "Well, I did notice some unusual structural anomalies. Near the...the wound."

Blossom briefly furrowed her brow again. "Anomalies? Like what?"

Taking a deep breath and sighing, Professor said, "I really can't say. It's too little to make any real judgments. If only the rest had survived I might have been able to study it. Perhaps the changes weakened it to the point the fire was able to dissolve it."

Blossom nodded, curious, but a long way yet from coming clean on her part in the matter.

"I'm back!" Bubbles called out from upstairs.

Professor widened his eyes in surprise and quickly stashed the jar in his cabinet. Blossom just smiled at his behavior, little different than her own.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

[Balkan Church]

After a few less-than-rousing games of Life, Yahtzee, and Candyland, they broke for lunch. Afterwards, Blossom excused herself to her room with a claim she wanted to "make a gradual transition back to reality."

Generally feeling pleased with herself, she settled down to find her place and finish reading what she planned to be her last book. Unless, of course, she bought a new one tomorrow.

Taking and fondling the object had become so natural at this point that when she heard a small knock on her door many hours later, she was surprised to find it in her hand.

"Come in," she said, quickly stashing it.

"Hi," Bubbles said, poking her head in. "Dad and I made spaghetti."

Blossom sighed testily and climbed out of bed. "Eat, sleep, and read. Eat, sleep, and read," she muttered to herself.

"What's that?" Bubbles asked.

"Sorry," Blossom said. Had she said something out loud without realizing it again? "It's just that it feels like I do nothing but eat, sleep, and read. I'm getting tired of it."

Bubbles giggled as they walked to the kitchen. "Well, good. I'll be glad to have you back."

Dinner was mostly food, little talk. Near the end, Blossom did ask, "So, any plans tomorrow?"

"Not really," Professor said. "Did you have something in mind?"

Blossom shook her head and swallowed another mouthful of food. "I was thinking about picking up that book you said you saw, but if I read another word, I think I'll go crazy."

"So, I take it you're _not_ looking forward to school Monday?" Bubbles teased.

Blossom mock glared at her sister. "Just had to go and bring that up again, didn't you?"

Blossom finished her meal in silence and excused herself. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night," Professor called.

Bubbles seemed to struggle for words. Blossom noticed, and put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll come out tomorrow. It's a promise."

Bubbles smiled weakly but seemed as if there were more on her mind. Blossom, oblivious, patted her on the shoulder and walked off.

Back in her room, she dressed down for the night, too tired to read and too uninterested to do anything else.

Still, she wasn't that sleepy. Even if she tried, sleep was a good hour away.

In the dark, her hand stole out from under her covers, took hold of the object, and was soon engrossed by its comforting presence.

It was almost numb to her fingers now, so often had she stroked it over the last several days. Again she drew it up to the sensitive area of her lips, sliding one of the longer tendrils against it. After a few passes she drifted closer to the center of her lips. They parted slightly, and she brushed it against the smooth area just before the mouth.

She gasped and pulled it away. Another knock at her door.

Glaring at the door like it was its own fault, Blossom stashed the object on her headboard and stomped over to her door, flinging it open with a rush of air that pulled Bubbles's ponytails forward.

"What?" Blossom asked tersely.

"Um...." Bubbles started, but seemed too nervous, frightened, or embarrassed to continue.

Blossom let her face soften slightly and half-raised an eyebrow in show of interest. That was as inviting as she planned to get.

"I was wondering...if...if I could sleep with you tonight."

Blossom furrowed her brow and put her one eyebrow at full mast. "Why?" she asked.

"Cause it's lonely. Sometimes I get scared at night. And its hard...in our old room and stuff."

Blossom relaxed her face, closed her eyes, and sighed. "My bed isn't even big enough for two people. Why don't you go sleep with dad."

"He doesn't wanna," Bubbles said. "Besides, your my big sister. And it was real easy for me when I slept with you on the ride back. You didn't mind, then."

Blossom closed her eyes in a sort of grimace and shook her head. "Bubbles, I hardly even remember that whole week. I think my mind went home early and decided to meet me there. And besides, you've gone this long without me."

"But I miss you."

"And what are you going to do?" Blossom asked, irritation mounting. "Sleep on the floor?"

"I dunno," Bubbles said, her voice becoming high pitched. "Yes."

Blossom half-sighed, half grunted. "No. Good night."

Blossom practically slammed her door shut and tromped back to bed. She heard heavy steps as Bubbles ran back to her room. Or to daddy. Or anywhere other than here.

After she wrapped herself up in her covers, she waited to calm down again so she could get to sleep.

Sleep? It wasn't even nine o'clock yet.

She struggled to remember what she'd been so upset about anyway.

The realization hit her strongly. So strongly she froze as she thought about it.

She kicked off her covers and turned on her lamp. Retrieving the object, she looked at it with a mix of confusion and disgust. Did she really just send her sister away crying because she'd interrupted her time with this...thing?

It was so worthless and ugly. Just a little thing.

Blossom made a mock gagging sound in disgust. Cleansed by fire or not, she'd practically had that thing in her mouth.

Disgusted with herself far more than the object, she opened her closet, floated up to the top shelf, and hid it in the back corner.

Taking a moment to steady herself, she opened her door and trekked to Bubbles's room. To their old room, right next door to what had been Buttercup's.

Blossom paused at the door and listened. Her heart sank when she heard soft sobbing from within.

Gingerly, she knocked on the door and waited.

"Go away," Bubbles called out, her voice muffled by both her voice and her pillow.

Blossom swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and opened the door anyway.

Bubbled lay on her belly, face buried in her pillow. When she heard the door open she seemed to shrink a little, as if she could bury herself completely and hide from sight.

Blossom sighed again, regarding Bubbles with the sort of loving pity only family could give.

Closing the door behind her, Blossom shuffled over to the bed and crawled into it. Bubbles didn't look up even when Blossom scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm sorry, Bubbles," Blossom cooed. "I don't know what was wrong with me."

Bubbles's only response was two quiet sobs.

"Is it too late to say 'yes?'"

Several seconds passed. Bubbles, face still buried in the pillow, shook her head.

"So I can stay?" Blossom prompted.

Still hiding, Bubbles nodded her head.

"Can I see your face so I can tell you I love you?" Blossom asked, smiling.

Bubbles didn't move.

"Am I going to have to tickle you?" Blossom asked.

Bubbles shook her head furiously.

"Well then, come out and say 'hi' or I'm changing my mind again."

Several moments later, Bubbles turned her head to face Blossom, inches away. Her face was wet and red, though much of the redness was probably embarrassment at this point.

"There," Blossom said, wiping under each of her sister's eyes with her thumb. "Is it okay if we sleep in here? Will I make you feel safe enough?"

Bubbles smiled and nodded.

"Do you forgive me?" Blossom asked.

Bubbles nodded again and sniffled.

"Thank you," Blossom said. She bent her head forward and gently nuzzled her sister's forehead with her own. When she opened her eyes again she said, "Now why don't you turn that icky pillow over and go to sleep."

Bubbles nodded and withdrew from Blossom's embrace to do just that. While she did so, Blossom slipped under the covers and asked, "It's not too early, is it?"

"No," Bubbles replied meekly.

Blossom lay down and waited for her sister to turn change into her nightgown. After she slid under the covers beside her, Blossom turned to her and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Bubbles replied.

A few minutes later, Bubbles said, "I miss her."

Blossom sighed a little and replied, "Me, too."

A few beats later, Bubbles said, "Goodnight."

A few more minutes later, Bubbles asked, "Do you think we're going to be okay?"

"Of course we will," Blossom replied sleepily.

A few beats later, Bubbles said, "Goodnight again."

If Bubbles said anything further that night, Blossom missed it in her sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

[Droplets of Recovering Memory]

Sunday almost felt like a normal day. As promised, Blossom spent it with her family. They ate breakfast, played video games, then broke out the coloring books. After lunch, they ventured to the mall, where Blossom was pleasantly surprised to find the crowds showing them some respect rather than randomly stepping forward to offer their goodwill.

Late into the evening, Blossom showered and checked her backpack to ensure she had all her school things.

As she hadn't touched any of it since she last went to school about a month ago, it didn't take her long at all. Her clock said it was only quarter past eight.

She eyed her new book, but she'd been quite honest about being tired of reading. She considered pulling out her laptop again but decided there was only work there, not relief.

One thing came to mind. Something she decided she had to do before returning to public life.

Bubbles was still in the shower. Blossom crept past the bathroom, down the hallway, and past their old room, stopping in front of what was once the guest room. In front of what had been Buttercup's bedroom.

The latch clicked softly when she turned the handle. She opened the door carefully, following the edge of it as it parted to reveal the room.

The corners of her mouth raised in the barest hint of a smile. The bed was ruffled and unmade, her nightgown stretched out on top where she'd thrown it. The clothes she'd worn the day before their trip were piled beside the bed, and candy wrappers were strewn across her nightstand.

Blossom stepped inside, her footsteps a slight, plush whisper in the carpet. The sounds of the shower down the hall faded completely when she closed the door behind her.

Blossom circled the edge of the room, walking around the bed like it was a dangerous animal. From the mess, it seemed that her family wasn't quite ready to go through the room yet either. Perhaps they'd discussed it but decided to wait for Blossom.

"Why does it always seem like I clean up your messes?" Blossom asked the room. It seemed a shame to leave the place in this state. Pulled by her motherly instinct, she approached the bed with intent to make it. She grabbed two fistfuls of the comforter and froze.

A few seconds later, she relaxed her hands. Then she let go entirely.

Perhaps she, too, was unready for this.

Casting her gaze upon the nightgown nearby, she leaned over the bed and put her palm on it. It was cool to the touch and soft as silk. She let her hand linger there for a while before withdrawing it, leaving the room soon after.

The shower had stopped running, but the bathroom door was still closed. Fortunately, Blossom managed to slip back to her room unnoticed.

Following a discontented sigh, she plopped onto her bed. Several bored moments later, she picked up her new book anyway. Just as she was starting to really get into it, the dryness in her eyes prompted her to check her alarm clock, whereupon she saw it was well past ten.

Rolling her eyes, she tucked the book safely aside and rose to turn off her lights. School was coming soon.

Fortunately, she remembered to set her alarm clock before going to sleep, and awoke to it without issue. Groggy and reluctant, she coaxed herself out of bed. Not feeling like the effort of cereal, when she met Bubbles in the kitchen she grabbed a pair of toaster pastries.

"I could have poured you a bowl," Bubbles offered.

Blossom shrugged and sat at the table.

"You look tired," Bubbles said.

Widening her eyes (or as much as her heavy lids would allow), she nodded solemnly.

After they finished, they crossed paths with Professor as he plodded down the stairs, looking half-dead as much as he did half-asleep. After waving goodbye, the girls slung their backpacks over shoulder and took flight, heading for Grassy Hill Elementary school, eager (in their own way) to finish the last few weeks of their fifth grade year.

The other children gave them a wide berth. Many of them took to whispered conversations. Blossom didn't care enough to eavesdrop.

After everyone was at their desks and the school bell rang, Mrs. Jones prompted the class to welcome back Blossom and Bubbles. With a typical half-hearted group mumble, they did so, and class began.

The teacher reminded the class (meaning she informed Blossom and Bubbles) that there was a state exam the Wednesday after next. The morning was devoted to reviewing various things. Blossom wrote down some notes about things that were new to her when they came to them. She made a mental note to ask the teacher about their backlog of homework and things to study.

The mental note proved an unnecessary precaution, because when the recess bell rang, Mrs. Jones called out, "Bubbles? Blossom? Can I see you for a minute."

They stood in front of their teacher's desk, but she spent her time tidying up papers and folders on her desk until the other children had cleared out.

"I set aside some extra books for you two to borrow," she said. "I'll give them to you after school. I have some make-up homework assignments for you to work on this week as well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones," Blossom said politely.

"My pleasure dear. I also wanted to tell you--because I know how seriously you take these things--that the state exam is nothing to worry about. It's there to test the schools more than the students."

"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that."

"Well, that's all I had to say," she finished, flexing her fingers back before clasping her hands together. "Unless there's anything you girls would like to talk to me about."

Blossom was spared from choosing words to politely decline the offer by a rapping on the window. They all turned to see Valhallen standing there, smiling. Blossom smiled back, though she could guess what this was about and didn't look forward to it.

She opened the window and said, "What's up, Val?"

"Yo, dudettes! Forsooth, 'tis nary a more gnarly day than that in which thou dost grace us with thine welcome countenance."

"It's good to be back, I guess," Blossom replied. "Anything the matter?"

"Nay," Valhallen said, holding up his hand and shaking his head. "I was just, like, wondering if the dudes and I could blow this Popsicle stand or if you still wanted to chill for a while."

Blossom exaggerated her sigh a bit. "Well, that sounds awfully nice, but I'd _really_ hate to impose."

"Woah, say no more. Asketh and thou shalt receiveth." Leaning forward conspiratorially, he asked, "So, what, like another week or something?"

"That would be wonderful," Blossom said. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Pshaw, think naught of it. I'll let everyone know to clear out of your way after Sunday. That cool with you, compadres?"

"Sure. Thanks again for babysitting while we were out."

"Ah, as Juvenal once said, 'Who shall babysit the babysitters?' Or something like that. Anyway, catch you later amigos!" With a wave and a smile, he was off.

Blossom smiled at Bubbles, who smiled back. They high-fived, and as Blossom jogged out of the room, Bubbles close behind, she called to their teacher, "See you later!"

The rest of the day was eerily peaceful. Somehow, knowing the hotline wasn't going to ring gave class a different feel. For once, they were stuck here with the rest of the kids until the final bell rang.

So it was throughout the rest of the week. Without distractions of criminals and super-villains, even Bubbles finished her make-up homework early (albeit with a little help from Blossom). Blossom thought it wasn't that bad, really. Maybe it'd get boring eventually, but it was refreshing to just follow the lessons. Not having to lead anyone, or make tough choices, or rush around the city putting out fires (sometimes literally).

It left her with a lot of time to relax and be alone with her thoughts. Even though, when she considered it, she'd had plenty of time for that recently already. As she crawled into bed Friday night, she thought back to that time and found it hard to imagine her days had been so empty and meaningless.

Not to mention the thought of playing with that thing was a little disturbing, but she forgave herself. After all, it was a hard time for her, and it had helped her relax quite a bit. Maybe she should come clean with the Professor and hand it over to him now that she'd had her fill of it.

In fact, she figured she must be doing very well. She could hardly remember the last time she'd dreamed about Buttercup. It had been an odd one, though. A little scary at the end, maybe, but before that point it felt good to think she was helping Buttercup out. Even if it was something as strange as teaching her how to speak and be heard.

That dream had been somewhere near the end of her break, right? It wasn't Sunday night, because she didn't remember any dreams when she awoke for school.

"Saturday was Bubbles," she muttered sleepily. "I think I dreamed, but I don't remember what about. Maybe Friday?"

Yes, she decided, it had been Friday. That was the day Bubbles and the Professor went to lunch and the mall without her. She'd skipped supper, she was so out of it. Come to think of it, she'd fallen asleep with her clothes on, hadn't she? Still holding that thing.

Her tired mind struggled to start churning again, realizing it had latched on to a thought and trying to process it. The mental effort dragged her further from sleep, eventually driving all traces of bleary-eyed tiredness from her when she made the connection.

Her last dream about Buttercup had been the last night she slept with the object.

The strongest dream about Buttercup had been when she'd held it as she slept.

Her stomach tightened and her heart started to beat a little harder. She rolled over in bed and stared at her closet doors.

Less than a minute later, she was crawling back under her covers, cradling the object on her chest and waiting impatiently for her heart to slow down and sleep to steal over her.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

[Down]

Blossom stepped out of her room, ready to eat breakfast and go to school. She passed Buttercup in the hallway. Blossom smiled and waved at her as she went. Buttercup was also sitting at the kitchen table when she walked in there. Finding it odd she'd be hanging around there on a Saturday morning, Blossom grabbed a bowl full of ice cream that she'd stuck in the freezer last night. The ice cold bowl stuck to her fingers slightly as she carried it out to the living room, where she sat next to Buttercup.

As she watched the empty television screen, she opened her mouth and brought the spoon to it. Before she put it in her mouth, she paused. Slowly she turned her head to Buttercup. She lowered her hand to her lap, the ice cream—bowl, spoon, and all—having simply vanished, unwanted.

"Buttercup?" Blossom asked apprehensively, her heart beating powerfully against her ribs.

"Why did you leave me alone like that?" Buttercup asked in a defeated tone.

"Alone?" Blossom asked, her voice barely louder than her breath.

"Yes, alone," Buttercup replied. "In that dark place. It was cold. I like it warm. I like the sun. I.... I like you," Buttercup finished, gently caressing her sister's bicep before stretching her arm out behind Blossom's back. She half-hugged Blossom, nestling her head on her shoulder, against her neck.

Blossom leaned her head against Buttercup's and awkwardly held her shoulder with her free hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I can't do anything if someone's not close," Buttercup said, still nestled.

"I had no idea. Is it really you?"

"If you believe it is, that's all that matters, isn't it? Don't you still love me? Don't you miss me?"

"Of course," Blossom said hoarsely, her throat tightening with emotion. "I just wish there was something I could do for you. Something to help."

"You can help me. I know you can."

"But how?"

Buttercup pulled herself away and turned to sit sideways on the couch. Blossom did the same. Buttercup took Blossom's hands in her own and said, "I need a new body."

Blossom's eyes widened. "But.... How? How can I do that?"

"I don't know. You'll think of something."

"But.... But how will you...."

"I can talk to you just by being close. If I could touch the brain, I can figure it out from there. I know I can. I was so close before I died."

Blossom's jaw slowly dropped. "You.... We.... We didn't know. I'm.... I'm so, sorry Buttercup."

Buttercup shook her head, "None of that matters any more. You can fix it. You can make it right again. But I can't do anything by myself."

"I won't leave you alone again," Blossom promised.

"Promise you'll help me," Buttercup ordered. "Promise you'll do whatever it takes to make things right again."

"I promise," Blossom said softly. "I'll find a way, somehow."

Buttercup smiled. "Thank you. I think I'll have to go soon, though. Promise you'll leave me in the sun while you're away? I like it there."

Fighting back tears, Blossom squeaked out a tiny, "I promise."

"You should wake up now," Buttercup said. "Wake up before you forget."

"I'll never forget," Blossom swore.

"...never...forget," she muttered to herself as her eyelids fluttered, trying to open. Finally, they cooperated, and to avoid falling asleep again, she propped herself up on one elbow.

Something brushed against her neck.

In a panic, she reached for it, grabbing something hard tangled in her hair. As she pulled it away she began to recognize its form, its flows and its curves.

Steadying herself, she carefully pulled the object out of her hair. Not wanting to forget about it in the morning, she crawled out of bed to her window, tucking the object out of sight behind the curtain, where it could bathe in the warm glow of the sun away from prying eyes.

Taking a step back to her bed, she felt weak in the knees. She leaned forward, supporting herself by planting her hands on her bed.

Taking slow, deep breaths, expanding her lungs and driving the sleepiness away, she reviewed her dream. Had it been just a dream?

No. She truly believed this was more than coincidence. Had to be. Her mind hadn't been anywhere near Buttercup as she dreamed, but she was there all the same, hovering about until she drew Blossom's attention. Could something like that have happened if Blossom's mind were running the show by itself?

This time she'd awakened with the object the closest it had ever been to her head, after the clearest of her dreams yet.

It could be coincidence, but....

She pushed away from the bed and slipped out of her room. Gliding softly through the house, she stopped at her dad's bedroom door.

Swallowing hard and licking her lips, she carefully turned the knob and opened the door. She heard his heavy breathing as she drew nearer to his bedside. Feeling intensely nervous, she stood there for several moments, hoping, perhaps, that he'd awake of his own accord.

At one point, she almost let him be and return to her room. But the thought of Buttercup's plea and Blossom's subsequent promise kept her firmly rooted.

"Dad?" Blossom asked in a tiny whisper.

"Dad?" she asked again, a little louder.

"Dad?" she asked a third time, in her normal tone of voice.

"Dad?" she asked again, increasing both her volume and tone of irritation.

"Dad?" she asked one more time, loud enough she feared even Bubbles might hear.

Professor started, his breathing becoming choppy. His eyes shot open and darted around the room for several seconds before they remained on her.

"Something wrong, honey?" he asked, blinking heavily, voice muffled by his face being half-buried in his pillow.

"Dad, can I ask you something?"

After a long pause, Professor closed his eyes and said, "Uh huh."

"Are you still awake?"

"Uh huh."

"Dad?"

"What?" he asked, sounding irritated. A moment later he asked again, much more gently, "What?"

"Um, I was just wondering. How were we made again?"

Professor's face scrunched up, "You remember, don't you?"

"No, I mean how _exactly_ were we made? Step by step."

Professor sighed. "Honey, can this wait until tomorrow?"

"But...I really want to know. Please?"

Wearily, he replied, keeping his eyes closed the whole time, "Blossom, you and your sisters are people, just like everyone else. There's nothing wrong or to be ashamed about, or anything to worry about. Just because you came into this world a little differently doesn't change that."

"So, was it, like, two-and-a-half cups of sugar? Was it over a flame?" Blossom prompted.

"It was seven hundred grams of sugar," Blossom's eyes widened and she darted out of the room in a flash, returning with a pad of paper and a pen, scribbling furiously, "a sprig of basil, a pinch of Cayenne pepper, fifty grams of cinnamon, a dozen cumin seeds, ten fennel seeds (still green), a clove of garlic, three mint leaves, twenty-five grams of mustard seed, fifty grams of nutmeg, ten grams dried oregano, a sprinkle of paprika, and one hundred grams of thyme. I slaved for months to find that mix."

"Okay, good," Blossom said hurriedly, jotting down the last of the Professor's ingredients. "And the everything nice?"

"Oh, that was a wonderful day," he said softly, voice creaking. Eyes still closed, he smiled. "I finally realized it wasn't meant to be specific. I strolled through a toy store and bought anything that brought a feeling of happiness to my heart. Outside I saw this most beautiful, perfect little daisy, so I plucked it and brought it home."

"Okay, then what? Did you just mix everything together?"

"Yes, along with about fifty kilograms of rich, loamy soil and five liters of seawater. The inspiration came from old wives tales and the golom of Jewish folklore. I mixed everything together and tried to bring it to thirty seven point eight degrees Celsius. Still, it was barely above room temperature when the chemical X fell in. You know the rest."

Blossom continued scribbling. In her silence, Professor cracked open his eye. Blossom noticed and hid the paper behind her back while Professor tried to blink away the filminess.

"Are you sure everything's all right?"

"Yeah.... Yeah, I feel a lot better now, knowing that. Sorry to bother you."

"Oh, no," Professor said, becoming much more pleasant with sleep in sight again. "No bother at all, dear."

"Goodnight, dad."

Professor's only response was a moan that may or may not have been an attempt at speech. Blossom crept along out of the room, and by the time she closed the door behind her again he was once more breathing heavily and peacefully.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

[Nonsense Prayer]

Straining to keep her dry eyes open as she worked, checking everything she did three times to ensure she made no mistake in her near-stupor, Blossom continually spoke to herself as she flitted about the chemistry lab of the local college.

"Loamy. An equal mix of sand and silt with a little clay," she muttered as she read the bag of soil she'd snatched. She'd figured, given what she was planning to accomplish, a little underhandedness could be forgiven.

She was careful to cut the portions given by the Professor. In many cases the rounding was not perfect, but it sounded as if a little leeway was acceptable. In addition to the rest she'd brought one of the coloring books she and her family had worked on last week, a Barbie doll, Buttercup's nightgown, and a California buttercup she'd found in a field after a careful search. It had been hard to find in the night, but she thought it a worthwhile effort.

After all, she didn't want to create just any little girl. She had someone in mind.

Along with that, she'd brought the urn with Buttercup's ashes. Given the surprisingly small amount of sugar and spice involved, she decided not to upset the delicate mix emptying the whole urn.

She measured out a portion of the soil and added it to the tall soup pot she'd picked up. She poured in the sea water and mixed it up thoroughly. The sugar and spice she dry mixed in a bowl before adding it to the pot. Next she sprinkled in some of the ashes.

With everything else mixed together, she added the book, the doll, the gown, and the flower. She continued stirring until everything was well-coated, though obviously mixing would be impossible.

That left only the tools she'd need to make this bit of black science bear the fruit she sought. On a nearby table she had a beaker of chemical X and, of course, the object. It had taken a while to think of a way to expose the brain with a minimum of hassle, but she found a small strip of polyduranium alloy in the lab, left over from one of Professor's projects.

Rolling it into a squat tube just shy of two inches wide, she used a bonding agent to hold it in shape. Between this and a larger block of the alloy she could safely bang on without cutting herself, she expected it would be a snap to quickly punch a hole in the skull. Hopefully it would be big enough for the object to take root.

To test her theory, she put the tube on a nearby table top and set the block on it. She took a moment to steady herself, and gave the block a quick chop.

Removing the block and pulling the tube up, she blew hard, popping out the circle of table that she'd just cut out. Certainly, she'd have to hit a lot harder in a moment, but it should work, and do a much tidier job than trying to break through with the object directly, which had nearly killed Buttercup the last time. She'd just have to be careful to not go too far with the tube and damage the brain itself, but she felt confident she could pull it off.

Taking care to sterilize the tube with her heat vision, she set it aside to cool. She picked up the flask of chemical X and sauntered over to the pot. She took several deep breaths to steady herself. She couldn't help but be reminded of Bunny. She had to assume that had been completely off base. Her sisters and she had done nothing like what she was doing tonight. It had all probably come down to the Chemical X. It had certainly brought stranger things to life.

This was going to work. Tonight Blossom was going to redeem herself.

Slowly she took in a final, deep breath. Her hand shook as she held the flask over the pot. With a swift jerk she turned it upside down and let the contents spill into the pot.

The resulting explosion pushed her back across the floor, but she was careful not to topple, instead skidding along the vinyl tiles.

Blossom blinked her eyes several times and waited for the smoke to clear.

Her jaw dropped. She could hardly believe it.

She stood before her calmly waiting, her hands folded modestly in front of her. Her green eyes. Her short black hair.

Goodness, she seemed so tiny. Was Blossom really that small once?

It didn't matter. This was perfect. Better than she could ever have planned. Better, truly, than she had even hoped for. She strode across the room, snatching the tube and the block from the table.

"Hello," Buttercup said, smiling.

Blossom stopped.

"What?" she asked.

"Hi," Buttercup said. "What's your name?"

Blossom's heart sank. Her stomach clenched. Her jaw fell. Her grip weakened, and the block thudded onto the floor. The tube fell shortly after, bouncing with a musical, metallic ringing.

What had she almost done? How could she be so stupid? Could she really destroy one life--this new, innocent person--just to bring back another?

Blossom's face twisted in anguish. She ran over to little Buttercup and fell to her knees, grabbing her in a fierce hug.

"It's Blossom. My name is Blossom Utonium."

"Nice to meet you, Blossom Utonium," she said.

Blossom quivered, struggling with both the joy of her success and the bitterness of her failure. She had Buttercup's face, but not her mind.

"This feels nice," Buttercup said, squeezing back.

"Yes," Blossom said at length. "Yes, it does."

"Do I have a name?"

Blossom loosed a loud, painful sob.

"How do you spell that?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom smiled and grimaced, and pushed Buttercup out of the hug. She opened her mouth, intending to call her Buttercup, but that just wasn't right. No matter how she wished it, it just wasn't meant to be.

Blossom's eyes darted around the room.

A name, she thought. This girl deserves a name. Betty? Bertha? Beatrice? Becky?

Her eyes settled on the urn. "Ash.... Ashley," she said. Could she really do that? Was that right?

Then again, she thought, she couldn't think of one thing tonight that _was_ right.

"Your name is Ashley Utonium," she said, smiling.

"Neat. Are you my mommy?" Ashley asked.

Blossom smiled weakly. "Sort of. Just...think of me like your big sister."

"Yay! I have a sister!" Ashley exclaimed, darting forward to embrace Blossom in another hug.

Blossom blinked and wiped away her tears in bewilderment. It was uncanny. She could speak English, move around..... She'd even led the conversation at one point. It was both amazing and frightening. Was this how Professor had felt when they'd first met? Had Blossom and her sisters been this advanced?

Blossom pushed Ashley away again. "Look, it's way past our bedtime. We have to go home."

"But I'm not sleepy," Ashley said.

"Could you please try to go to sleep? For me?" Blossom asked.

Ashley smiled, "I guess so."

Blossom looked around the room, at the huge mess she'd made. The fragile cooking pot had split and warped in the explosion. Soot covered the counter and ceiling.

"Wait here while I clean this place up," Blossom ordered. In a flash of pink, the room looked tidy again, save for half a bag of dirt, some leftover sugar and spice, and the remains of the pot.

"Can you carry some of this and follow me to the garage?" Blossom asked uncertainly.

"Sure," Ashley said, immediately walking over to the pile. Blossom made a point of snatching up the polyduranium block and tube, the object, and the urn.

Blossom looked behind her more than once on the brief flight back home. Ashley's presence, with her unmistakable resemblance to her late sister, was eerie.

"Now be very quiet, okay?" Blossom whispered as she slipped inside from the garage. She'd stowed the polyduranium on a high shelf, while she and Ashley piled up the rest in a corner on the floor. Inside the house, she stashed the urn where she'd found it. The object she kept in hand.

Again, she continued to check behind her as she glided along towards her bedroom. After Ashley floated in behind her, Blossom closed the door. Shooting Ashley another glance, Blossom hopped over her bed and once more hid the object behind the curtain. If she couldn't give Buttercup a body tonight, she could at least give her a warm, sunny day tomorrow.

Blossom changed back into her own nightgown, but didn't think they had any that would fit Ashley.

"Do you mind sleeping in your undies tonight?" she asked.

"Nuh-uh," Ashley replied.

Blossom nodded and, acting once again on her motherly instinct, helped Ashley undress. Lamenting her small twin bed, Blossom slid under the covers and held them up, inviting Ashley to join her. She barreled into the bed, rolling so her back was against Blossom, who grunted softly at the impact.

"Goodnight, big sister Blossom," Ashley said.

"Goodnight, Ashley." Blossom wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tight. "Welcome home."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

[Compressed Into Time]

"Blossom!" a male voice shouted out.

Blossom's eyes fluttered open, but there wasn't anyone here. She was ready to go back to sleep when she realized that her being alone meant Ashley was missing.

In an instant her tiredness faded. She sat up and jerked her head around to make sure Ashley wasn't in her room. Meanwhile, thunderous footsteps approached.

There was a little rush of air as Professor flung her door open.

Blossom froze, a deer caught in the headlights.

Professor took in a short breath and puffed it out through his nostrils. After stepping into the room, he slammed the door behind him. Blossom flinched.

"What," he started, stepping closer, "the hell did you do!?"

Blossom started to shake. Never had her father been so angry. Though he certainly couldn't do anything to harm her, her dread was as powerful as if she were faced with bodily harm most grievous.

"Is...is she okay?" Blossom asked, worried Ashley might have done something foolish or worse.

"She is fine," Professor said. "You!" He had to stop to let his anger drop off a little. "You, young lady, are in _serious_ trouble."

Blossom's lip started to quiver. A few brave tears dared to leave the safety of her ducts, but most cowered away.

"What in God's name were you thinking?" he pressed, yelling loud enough anyone in the house would have understood his every word, door closed or not. "How could you be so stupid! So arrogant! Did you stop for a minute to think about this?" He started to punctuate his words with his movements, pointing his finger at the ground as he spoke, lifting his arm and thrusting it downward with more force every time. "Did you even consider how your actions would affect this family?"

Here he had to pause, for his words had run out faster than his mind could keep up. His head was thrust slightly forward as he continued to eye his now-sobbing daughter angrily. For the moment, that sad display was not enough to diffuse his temper.

"Well?" he prompted, still having no more words but trying hard to keep the coals stoked. "What do you have to say for yourself? What excuse do you have for this?"

Words were difficult for Blossom now as well. "I don't know," she said.

"You don't know?" he repeated. "Well, that's just wonderful. You brought this little girl into the world, into our family, and you don't even know why?"

"I wasn't thinking," Blossom said. This much was true. Besides, what more could she say? That she intended to use Ashley as a human sacrifice to bring her dead sister back into the world, body and soul?

"You're goddamn right you weren't thinking!" he screamed. "Did you even have any idea of the risks? Of the hundred things that could have gone wrong? If it was that easy, don't you think there'd be a hundred lonely families cooking up their own children right now?"

Blossom couldn't even bear to look at him any more, though her eyes would have been too blurred by a flood of tears to make any difference. She buried her eyes in her palms, her bed shaking with her sobs.

Professor sighed hoarsely. He reached out and put both his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "I forgive you," he started, though there was still some ire in his tone. "Look at me, Blossom," he ordered.

She complied immediately, blinking hard to clear her eyes.

"I forgive you," he said again. "I still love you, and part of me can understand why you did what you did. But," he added, pausing. "I am very, _very_ disappointed in you. What you did was reckless. Selfish. Wrong." He stopped to let his words sink in, but in the pause he sighed, seeming to push out the last of his anger in the process.

"I'm not going to punish you. I'm not even going to lecture you about this again. I've said everything that has to be said. Now.... Now, we have her to worry about. We have to be a loving, caring family for her. I never want to say or do anything to make her feel unwelcome or unwanted."

Professor let his hands slide from Blossom's shoulders. With his rage spent, he began to feel week, and knelt on the floor by her bedside. He clasped his hands together, holding Blossom's on her lap. Looking up at her, he continued.

"This is a very big thing. I hope you realize that. And, if not, in time you will. Bringing a new life into this world.... It carries its own risks, rewards, and heartache." He freed one of his hands and poked Blossom gently in the chest. "_You_ brought her into this world." He poked her again,"_You_ are responsible for her. She is part of our family, and we will all do our part in raising her, but," he paused to offer a third and final jab, "_you_ will never be able to forget your role in this. She is not just your sister. She is not Buttercup."

He paused for a moment, his expression shifting to one of pity. "You do know that, right?"

Blossom's face tightened and she nodded slightly.

Professor nodded solemnly and continued. "She is also your daughter. Maybe it will never feel like that, but in some ways it will be different. No one...and I speak from experience, here. No one can truly appreciate what it is to bring a new person into this life until they've actually done it. She'll make friends. Grow up. Change the world. Nothing will ever be the same."

Now Professor's eyes began to well up. He raised a hand to gently brush Blossom's cheek. "But you'll love her. Maybe more than you could even expect. Maybe someday she'll do something that scares you, or disappoints you." Professor smiled sadly and wrapped Blossom in a hug, which she gladly returned. "But you'll always be proud of her. So, so proud."

He rubbed his hand up and down her back, holding her tightly for many seconds. Eventually, he let go and stood up.

Smiling, he said, "You'd better get dressed, sweetie. Today's a big day for us."

Still not daring to open her mouth for fear of breaking down, Blossom smiled weakly and bobbed her head in a little nod.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

[Gray Afternoon]

Blossom walked in the living room just as the front door opened. Bubbles walked in, her hand on Ashley's shoulder as she looked down and talked to her.

"...better not go anywhere without our permission. It's a big scary world out there, and there are a lot of people that might try to hurt or take advantage of you."

Blossom winced.

Ashley nodded, her attention rapt. When she turned her head and saw Blossom, her eyes lit up and she broke into a big smile. "Blossom!" she cried out, launching forward to wrap Blossom in a hug and almost toppling her. Awkwardly, Blossom hugged her back before Ashley hopped back to the ground.

"I saw the city. It looks much better in the daytime. And I met another sister. And some guy who said he needs to speak with you."

Blossom couldn't help but smile. "That's our dad. He...he was just looking out for me."

"I ran into her coming out of the bathroom this morning," Bubbles said.

"I had to pee," Ashley clarified.

Bubbles smiled and mussed up her hair, "I guess you did, huh?"

Blossom furrowed her brow in confusion. "Pee? But you never had anything to drink, right?"

Ashley shrugged. "I got thirsty."

Blossom cocked an eyebrow, "You didn't stay in my room at all last night, did you?"

Ashley smiled sheepishly and dragged her toe across the carpet. "I got bored waiting for you."

"Blossom?" Professor called out from the the lab. "Was she born before or after midnight?"

"Umm.... After," Blossom called back.

"What was her name?" he called again.

Instead, Bubbles smiled and suggested, "Why don't you come up and ask her yourself?"

Blossom felt her shirt being pulled. She looked down, then turned her head all around until she spotted Ashley standing behind her, clutching her protectively.

"What's wrong?" Blossom asked.

"He's scary," Ashley replied softly.

Blossom smiled and looked up as Professor came up the stairs into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, where are my manners?"

He walked over to his three girls and knelt down. Ashley hid further behind Blossom and squeezed tighter, peeking out at Professor between Blossom's side and the crook of her elbow.

"Hello, there," Professor said, smiling. "What's your name?"

When she didn't say anything, Blossom nudged her gently. "Go on."

"Ashley," she said.

"Oh, she's so cute!" Bubbles exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

Ashley buried her face in Blossom's back. This was certainly going to be...different.

"Hey, now, don't be mean," Blossom cooed. "You'll hurt his feelings. Come on out and say 'hi.'"

Blossom felt Ashley shake her head. She rolled her eyes and turned around, reaching out to hold Ashley still. She dropped to her knee and leaned close to speak. Ashley's eyes darted between the Professor and the carpet as Blossom carried on.

"Now, how do you think that makes me feel? This man is my daddy, and I love him very much. He's here to protect us and show us how to do the right things. He's not scary."

Professor continued to wait patiently, smiling softly, watching the scene unfold. When Ashley looked at him for a few seconds longer than she had been, he deepened his smile, widened his eyes, and shrugged.

Ashley's gaze fell to the carpet again and remained there, but she slowly shuffled forward. When she was closer to him, she glanced up for a moment. "Hi," she said.

"Hello, Ashley. I'm Professor Utonium. It's very nice to meet you."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed.

"Can I give you a hug and welcome you into the family?" he asked.

Ashley turned back to Blossom.

"It's okay," Blossom confirmed.

Slowly, still not looking him in the eye, Ashley started to stretch her arms out. Professor opened his and accepted her hug.

When his hands touched her back, Ashley stiffened up. Slowly, she arched her back, and Blossom could see her eyes staring away vacantly while her mouth hung open. As soon as Professor let go, however, she returned to normalcy so suddenly Blossom wondered if she'd imagined the strange display.

"Are you my daddy, too?" Ashley asked softly, smiling shyly at him.

"Well, if you let me I'll be. Besides, I think people will find that easiest to accept."

"Mm-kay," Ashley replied.

"Well," Professor said, standing up. "I have an awful lot of paperwork to go through this afternoon. But I suppose we should start the day off with a good breakfast. How do pancakes sound?"

"That sounds delicious," Bubbles said. She stepped closer to Ashley and placed her hand gently on her back. Ashley tilted her head to look at her, and Bubbles asked, "You've never had pancakes, have you?"

Ashley shook her head.

"Well, they're _awesome_. Right, Blossom?"

"Yeah," she said meekly.

"Hey, why don't you run upstairs and grab those coloring books we were working on?" Bubbles suggested to Ashley. How much time had they already spent together today? "We can color in the living room while we wait, okay?"

Ashley smiled and crouched, getting ready to shoot away.

"Nuh uh uh," Bubbles said, putting her hand on Ashley's shoulder. "No flying in the house except for emergencies. It's a rule." It was true enough. As the girls got bigger it had become increasingly difficult to shoot through the house without colliding with either the walls or, more likely, each other.

Blossom's heart skipped a beat when Ashley put on an all-too-familiar pouting expression. "Well, I hate stupid rules."

"Yeah, well, they're _our_ rules, so you can't hate them unless you hate us. You don't hate us, now do you?"

"No, I guess not," Ashley admitted.

"All right, now run up those stairs and grab those crayons!"

Ashley nodded and jogged up the stairs. Blossom turned her head to follow her progress, and was taken by complete surprise when Bubbles hugged her tightly from behind.

"Thank you. She's adorable," Bubbles moaned. She backed away and asked in a faint whisper, "It's not really her, right? She'll never remember anything?"

Blossom shook her head.

"Well, that's okay," Bubbles said. "She's a lot more affectionate, that's for sure. Poor little thing seems lonely somehow."

At this point Ashley came bounding down the stairs, and their conversation was cut short.

Blossom joined her sisters in the living room for coloring. Breakfast went well, with Ashley starting to warm up to the Professor.

After he finished wolfing down his plate, Professor announced, "It's a bit late in the year to sign her up for kindergarten, but I'll talk to Ms. Keane about enrolling her in the fall. In the meanwhile I've got a lot of forms to fill out. I don't think they'll let me slack off so much this time around."

Setting his eyes on Ashley, he said, "Today is a very special day. Do you know why that is?"

Ashley shook her head and regarded him intently.

"Today is your birthday. And that means you get a special present."

Her face brightened. "A present?"

"That's right. I think I'll leave that up to you and your sisters to decide." Professor turned to Blossom and said, "I'm going to give the mayor's office a call so they can get the word out. People are going to have questions when they see us out together."

"Like what?" Ashley asked, toying with her fork in her mouth.

Professor gave Blossom an important look, silently inquiring as to whether he should take initiative on this one.

"Hold on a second," Blossom said. She jogged to the living room and came back with a family picture they'd taken last summer. She set it on the table in front of Ashley and stood behind her.

"Do you know who this is?" Blossom asked, pointing.

"It's me," Ashley said without hesitation, even though the Buttercup in the picture was a lot older than Ashley.

"Not quite," Blossom said. "That's our other sister. Her name was Buttercup."

"What's her name now?" Ashley asked.

After Blossom understood the confusion, she clarified. "No, that's not what I mean. Something happened and we lost Buttercup."

"Did you look for her?"

"No, it's.... Not like that. She went somewhere far away, and she's never going to come back. But you look so much like her a lot of people might think you're her."

"Oh. So that's why Bubbles and Professor called me Buttercup?"

Blossom winced a bit, pained to put her family through that introduction without warning.

"That's right. So if anyone calls you Buttercup, it's okay to tell them, 'You must have me confused with someone else. My name's "Ashley."'"

"You must have confused me with someone else. My name's 'Ashley,'" she repeated.

"Very good," Blossom said, kissing her on the back of the head. "I'm going to put this back now. Some other time, we'll tell you all about Buttercup."

"Well," Professor interrupted, seeing that things were going well so far. "I'm going to be in the lab for a little while. You girls just call me when you need something. I'll be back up to help make lunch."

"All right, dad," Bubbles said. "We'll be thinking about that present," she promised.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

[Unjust Truth]

The new addition to the family fit in surprisingly well. There was no shortage of stares and pointing or whispered conversations when they spent Saturday afternoon shopping. They had so much to get (clothing, mostly) that by the time they reached the toy store, Ashley had forgotten about her present.

At first she was excited. All the colorful, attractive exhibits on the shelves drew her attention and sent her flitting throughout the store. When it came to actually choosing, she quickly lost steam. Eventually, after failing to respond to the prompting of the rest of her family, she said simply, "I don't want any of these things."

The blunt words quickly cast a pall on the previously joyous event.

"Aw, heck," Bubbles said, "we'll buy her a video game. Kids don't like toys much these days anyway, right?"

Bubbles's optimistic stance was hardly an isolated incident. After they returned home, it became apparent that Bubbles was providing most of the affection and companionship, even when Ashley started to get cranky from lack of sleep. Bubbles gave Ashley her first bath and offered to take her to bed. Though it went unspoken, they all felt it was just a little too soon to move Ashley into Buttercup's old room.

However, so long as Blossom was present, Ashley seemed to look to her for guidance and answers. It seemed, ready or not, she really was as good as Ashley's mother.

After sending Ashley off to bed, Blossom slipped off to her room. She felt a little lonely, but there was a great sense of relief as well. Leaning against her door, she looked through her window.

It was dark outside. Buttercup was probably cold and lonely by now. But Blossom couldn't bring herself to take the object to bed again just yet. It wasn't that she had given up, by any means, but the sting of her failure was still strong.

She'd find a way. Somehow. Eventually.

The next day, Bubbles realized she'd finally found her opportunity, and unwrapped her Konah Kids DVD. When she saw it in her sister's hand, Blossom graciously pardoned herself with the excuse of homework.

"What's homework?" Ashley asked as Blossom tried to slink off.

Stopping in her tracks, she smiled, rolled her eyes, and turned around. "Well, you see, we go to school most days. They teach us stuff there, and then they give us stuff to do at home."

"Is it fun?"

Blossom smiled. "Well, for me it usually is. Not for most people, though."

"Can I come?"

"To school? Well.... No, not really. You'll go to school someday, too, but we already know all the stuff they're going to teach you. You'll be in a different class."

"It's okay, though," Bubbles promised. "We'll get to do lots of other stuff together." Turning to Blossom for confirmation, she added, "Like going out and catching bad guys."

Blossom paused to consider it. This is the first time anyone had brought it up, but it certainly seemed reasonable. She and Bubbles had been active at Ashley's age, and as far as they knew Ashley was no less powerful than they were at the time.

"I guess so," Blossom said. "I'd better see what the Professor thinks, though."

His response: "Whatever you think, Blossom. You always seem to know what's right with this sort of thing."

Those words filled her heart with happiness. She practically floated to her room on a cloud.

Once there, however, she quickly dropped back to reality. There was so much to consider. Years of team building to do. Where to start? Offense? Defense? Reconnaissance?

That was a good point, actually. How should she teach her the best ways to recognize illegal activity? Maybe they should start with people in harm's way? But what about when a bad person puts someone else in harms way?

Her frantic train of thought became even more rushed with the realization that she and Bubbles were expected to return to crime fighting tomorrow.

She muttered to herself while she pulled out her laptop. "Should we start with the maneuver list? Maybe something simple like omega 5 delta? What am I thinking, she probably doesn't even know her ABCs, yet; I can't expect her to memorize those codes. Maybe I need an easy-to-remember naming scheme. But it can't be simple enough our enemies will understand it."

The remainder of her morning was spent coming up with a lesson plan, until she was called out of her room for lunch. As they ate their sandwiches, Blossom grew more confident in her decision.

After everyone finished eating, she made her announcement. "Girls, we're going out on a training patrol this afternoon. I know we're off the hook until tomorrow, but there's no sense dilly-dallying. Ashley's got a lot to learn and she may as well start sooner rather than later."

Bubbles smiled. Finally, it seemed the old Blossom was back.

"Don't worry Professor," Blossom continued as she stood up, "we'll be home in time for supper. C'mon girls, let's move!"

Bubbles, smiling, motioned for Ashley to hurry along and follow after Blossom. Outside, they shot off to the top of a skyscraper in the heart of the city.

Thusly perched, Blossom scanned the streets around them. Lunchtime traffic, both pedestrian and automotive, was still strong.

"Ashley, can you see the people moving down there?" Blossom asked.

"Uh-huh," she replied, eyes narrowed as she scanned the streets.

"Well, it's our job to protect them. Some of those people are bad people, and want to hurt others. Sometimes the mayor calls us in to help with a problem. Other times, we patrol the city, looking for minor crimes ourselves. Got it?"

"I think so," Ashley replied.

"Good," Blossom replied. "Don't worry, you'll catch on fast enough. With powers like ours, there's...." Blossom's stride slowed for a moment. "...not a lot that can really hurt us. We still can't afford to be reckless." Blossom put her hand on Ashley's shoulder, causing her to look up at Blossom. "I want to know that you understand that. We...we work as a team. We can't call ourselves a team if everyone's doing their own thing their own way. People call us the PowerPuff Girls, and I'm our leader. So, as a rule, when I tell you to do something, I need you to do it. Can you promise me?"

Ashley smiled. "Sure thing, big sister."

Blossom smiled. After pausing to release a small sigh of relief, she continued. "Thank you. Now, the first thing I'm going to ask you as your leader is to watch what's happening on the streets while we fly around the city together. If you see something out of the ordinary, tell me. Think you can do it?"

Ashley nodded enthusiastically.

Blossom turned to Bubbles and said, "If you see something we can't afford to wait for, just take care of it. If it's something we can let slide for a few seconds, wait and see if Ashley spots it. If not, we'll point it out to her, all right?"

"Can do," Bubbles replied brightly, along with a swift salute.

"Great. Follow my lead, girls!"

As Blossom anticipated, it didn't take long. They were only flying for a few minutes before Blossom spotted a man moving oddly in the sea of people. It was a subtle thing, but something a person could pick up on with enough experience. Narrowing her eyes, she used her penetrating vision from up above to see he was holding a switchblade in the palm of his hand.

Fully expecting it was beyond Ashley's abilities to pick up on this now, Blossom decided to wait and see if Ashley noticed when he made his move later on. Blossom landed on the roof of a three story building a short distance away. Her sisters joined soon after.

"Let's sit tight and watch this street for a while," Blossom said. "Try not to stick out too much. Some would-be crooks could get lucky and spot us up here, but most of them are too busy watching the streets for police officers and easy targets."

Blossom kept an eye on the potential crook without making it too obvious. He got to the street corner and stopped to check his watch. He stood there for a few moments. Blossom noticed a heavyset woman with gaudy makeup and expensive jewelry walk past. She was carrying a large purse.

Shortly after her passing, the man looked up from his watch and started walking after her.

Blossom swallowed and watched tensely, all thoughts of subtlety having fled, almost positive the moment was nearly upon them.

There!

"Hey!" the woman screamed in shock as the man deftly cut her purse strap and wrestled it from her hands. Spoils in hand, he started running.

Blossom looked at Ashley, who had heard the woman's cry.

"There?" Ashley asked, pointing at the man and turning to Blossom for confirmation.

"Yup," Blossom replied. The man had reached the center of the block and turned down an alley. "Now we have to catch him. Do you know how to chase someone?"

"Sure," Ashley replied brightly.

"Well, you better go get him," Bubbles prompted.

"Quick," Blossom added in a playful tone of urgency, "before he gets away."

Ashley, still smiling, nodded. Then she put on a look of determination and hopped off the rooftop, landing on the sidewalk and running after him on foot.

Blossom exchanged looks with Bubbles, raising an eyebrow. "Well...it's a start."

They took to the skies where they could watch more easily. Despite her smaller size, Ashley was keeping a good pace and easily catching up. Just ahead, they spotted the purse snatcher dropping from the chain link fence he'd just climbed. He'd probably planned it this way, so that most people who would chase after him would be slowed down by the fence or having to circle the block, giving him time to escape.

"Not bad," Blossom commented.

"Yeah, look at her go," Bubbles said, obviously focusing more on Ashley.

Blossom turned her attention back to Ashley. Without breaking stride, she leaped over the eight foot fence and kept running, apparently still not realizing it was possible to fly after someone and call it chasing.

The purse snatcher glanced behind him and noticed the pursuit. Panicking, he started to sprint full out. Blossom smiled, wondering if he knew it was already over.

Ashley knocked over a trash can as she passed, scattering rusty pieces of rebar across the alley. Although it didn't slow her down in the least, Blossom furrowed her brow and wondered how a little mistake like that had wormed its way into an otherwise flawless run.

Then it suddenly made sense, even as more questions were raised. Blossom saw that Ashley was now holding one of the pieces of rebar.

Blossom smiled again, thinking she'd perhaps she'd underestimated her. "Looks like she's gonna tie him up for us," Blossom commented to Bubbles.

Though they were focused on the chase, they spared each other a glance and a smile.

When they looked back, Ashley pounced just as he reached the sidewalk on the other side of the alley. She straddled his back as he crashed face-first into the concrete. Then she raised the rebar with both hands.

Then she drove it into the back of his head.

Blossom widened her eyes, wondering if she'd really seen that.

Ashley raised the bar again. Again she drove it home.

Blossom's jaw dropped. She and Bubbles shot off at the same time. Standing on either side of Ashley, they grabbed her arms to stop her as she raised them a third time. Blossom wrestled the bar from her hands even as the bystanders started screaming.

"Stop it!" Bubbles pleaded.

"What are you doing?" Blossom demanded.

Ashley, looked up at Blossom even as Bubbles continued to hold her empty hands overhead. She looked hurt. "Did I mess up?"

Blossom was at a loss for words. She looked at the man Ashley was straddling. Using her powerful eyes to peer inside, she saw a spiderweb of cracks in the skull in each spot the blunt instrument had penetrated it. Blossom was no doctor, but it was quickly apparent some vital part of the brain had been severely damaged; his heart had already stopped beating.

Blossom looked to Ashley again, who still didn't understand what she'd done wrong. Then she looked to Bubbles.

After several seconds of silence, while the people around them shouted for ambulances and policemen, Blossom said, "Take her home."

"But...but what'd I do?" Ashley exclaimed as she made a feeble attempt to tug herself away from Bubbles's grasp.

"Just go home," Blossom ordered. "I'll take care of this." Blossom gave Bubbles a final plaintive look, but had no more words to offer.

With a curt nod, Bubbles flew off with the reluctant Ashley in hand.

While she waited for the authorities to arrive, Blossom stared at the body on the ground before her, wondering what she could possibly say.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

[Unsettled]

Blossom was fortunate enough to have an understanding beat cop show up on foot. After giving her brief explanation, she expressed concern about wanting to check on Ashley, and he kindly offered to take care of things here so she could leave.

It was hard for her to say how much time had passed, though it probably hadn't been more than a few minutes. Upon her return home, she saw Bubbles sitting anxiously in a kitchen chair. She heard footsteps coming from the lab and they both turned to see Professor coming up the basement stairs wearing a look of weary concern.

He froze for a moment when he met Blossom's gaze. After a few seconds he turned his eyes away and finished his ascent, closing the door behind him.

"What happened while I was away?" Blossom asked.

"I've dosed her with Antidote X," Professor said as he joined Bubbles at the table. "She seemed very agitated, so I handcuffed her to a chair downstairs. She should be all right for a few minutes while we discuss this. I want to know exactly what happened."

Blossom, not knowing what Bubbles might have already said, gave Professor the whole story.

"She didn't seem to know what she'd done wrong," Blossom added. "She also seemed pretty sure about how to go about chasing someone. I...don't know where she got that notion. Professor, did we have any major issues like that at her age?"

Professor shook his head. "Oh, no. No, I can't say that you did. Your default modus operandi seemed to be helping rather than hurting."

Both Blossom and Professor were slightly comforted by their clinical analysis and over-elaborate wording. Bubbles just sat quietly.

In the intervening silence, they heard a loud banging sound from the basement. Neither of the girls could bear to look through the floor to see what was going on.

Professor seemed equally content to ignore the noises. "I'm not sure if this will explain anything or not, but can you tell me what deviations you might have made from the formula? Specific ingredients for her 'everything nice,' perhaps?"

Blossom froze up, ceasing even to breathe for several seconds. When she did speak, she worked her way slowly to her revelation. "Buttercup's nightgown from her bed. A Barbie. A fresh-picked buttercup. One of the coloring books we just did." She paused to take in an uneasy breath and added, "And some of Buttercup's ashes."

The room was silent for a time. Even the banging in the basement had ceased several seconds ago.

"My god," Bubbles said, regarding Blossom with a mix of disgust and betrayal. "What the hell did you do?" Blossom just stood in silence and let Bubbles build up speed. "Did you think this was some kind of evil ritual? Her ashes? Her gown? You used her ashes?"

"I just--" Blossom started to reply.

"Ashes!" Bubbles interrupted, leaping up from her chair and grabbing Blossom's arms painfully. "You did it! You put death in her!"

Bubbles's anger turned swiftly to helpless sorrow. Without another word, she pounded up the stairs to her room and slammed the door shut.

Blossom turned to Professor, still numb with shock.

He regarded her coolly, and just as calmly said, "We can't say for a fact that the ashes are responsible for this. Come, honey. Sit down."

Still reeling, she did so without realizing she'd complied.

"However, I will admit it's a delicate mixture. There's a degree of symbolism involved, intended to focus your _own_ mind during the process and create harmonious thoughts in the immediate area. The purpose is not to create _the_ perfect little girl, but _your_ perfect little girl."

Leaning back in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head, he continued."It's entirely possible that Ashley will be a little different than you girls were. I have faith, however, that we can work through this together. She seems to be a kind, happy soul. It's probably more a matter of properly educating her."

He looked Blossom in the eye and smiled. "This is hardly the worst thing to happen to our family. We'll pull through."

A wave of relief passed over Blossom's body. When she sighed, it felt as if she'd been holding her breath for ages.

"Thanks, dad."

Professor stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. "Now, I'm sure Ashley's very frightened and confused right now. She's latched on to you, you know. You're a very important person to her, and I think you're the one she needs to talk to right now. What do you say we go downstairs and work our way through this?"

Blossom smiled weakly and nodded, standing up to follow him down.

Professor opened the door and called out, "It's okay, Ashley. Big sister Blossom's here to see you."

They waited. There was no response. Professor opened his mouth again, but Blossom put her hand on his arm and stopped him.

"It's okay," she said softly.

Slowly he closed his mouth and nodded. Blossom started walking down the stairs, Professor trailing behind her.

"Ashley," she called out as she descended. "I'm sorry, sweetie. You gave us quite a scare earlier, but it's all right." As she neared the point where she could gaze out over the lab, she called out again, "Ashley?"

Stopping there, her eyes swept across the lab. They were drawn to the stark contrast of red and green sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.

Blossom drew in a sharp, wheezing breath before placing a hand tightly over her mouth. After a few moments she screamed, parting her fingers slightly to let it out and emptying her lungs further with a few dry sobs. She spun around and ran upstairs.

Professor ran down instead, rushing to the motionless, blood-covered body propped against the wall. A stream of red ran down her neck and darkened her clothes. It seemed a waterfall of blood had passed over her before now, though surely only because she'd had plenty of time to bleed out. Her eyes were wide open, staring blankly towards the stairs. To Blossom, it had been as if Ashley were staring right at her.

He dropped to his knee and checked her arm for a pulse, not daring to disturb the cut on the left side of her neck. Though he suspected as much anyway, his heart sank when he felt nothing.

With a look of profound sadness he rose to his feet and looked around. In her right hand he spotted the scalpel she'd cut herself with. Both it and the handcuffs on her wrist were red with blood.

He turned to see if Blossom or Bubbles had come down the stairs while he was distracted, and in so doing noticed one of his metal cabinets near the stairs had been opened up. He wasn't sure why, as he kept nothing but papers in there. His tools, including the scalpel, were kept in other areas.

Finally he turned to the chair he'd restrained her in. It seemed one of the armrests had been loosely connected to the back of the chair. Somehow Ashley had managed to break it loose and slip free.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

[Shattered Waltz]

Blossom closed her door behind her and ran to the window. Throwing her curtain aside, she snatched the object from the sill and pressed it to her chest, closing her eyes and sending a trail of tears down her cheek.

She willed it to intrude into her waking thoughts. So many times before it had put heart at ease. She wished it would assure her, even grant her renewed confidence and tell her what to do next.

Cradling it close, she lay in her bed in a fetal position, her back to her door. Her pillow became wet with tears but she didn't care. Had she cared about the world around her at all, she might have heard Professor's footsteps on the stairs, or Bubbles's cries when he delivered the news.

Even the hotline's angry buzz eluded her. It rang out for nearly half a minute before Bubbles swooped downstairs to answer it.

Several seconds later, Bubbles threw open Blossom's door and exclaimed, "Mojo Jojo just knocked out E-Male in a bank robbery. They need our help!"

"Please talk to me," Blossom said, paying Bubbles no need.

"What?" Bubbles asked, confused.

"Why won't you answer me?" Blossom asked.

"Blossom, please, we have to go now!" Bubbles said, walking to her sister's bedside. Grabbing her shoulder roughly, she rolled her onto her back.

Blossom's eyes were still clenched shut. Rather than spread her legs out, she kept them curled up as she moved from her side to her back. The object remained pressed into her chest, her hands repeatedly squeezing it like a macabre heartbeat.

"Please just answer me," Blossom said.

Bubbles saw the thing in her hand and stared at it for a moment, her lip curled and eyebrows furrowed in a mix of repulsion and curiosity. When she finally recognized it, her face drooped into open-mouthed revulsion. She took several steps back, then turned and ran, leaving the door open behind her as she left to stop Mojo.

A short while later, Professor walked by, drawn by the soft pleas heard through the open door. He, too, quickly recognized the object for what it was, despite having never seen its full shape before.

"Blossom, what are you holding?" he asked.

"She won't answer me," Blossom replied.

"Wha-- Who won't answer you?"

"Why isn't she speaking to me? Have you given up on me?"

Professor walked to her bed and tried unsuccessfully to pry her fingers off.

"I'm right here. Can't you feel me?"

"Blossom?" Professor said as she rambled, still prying. When it became apparent she was completely oblivious to him, he shouted, "Blossom, snap out of it!"

"I love you. I love you so, so much."

"Blossom!" Professor cried again, slapping her face. When that had no effect either, he looked around the room in a rush as he clenched his now-stinging hand.

"Please come. Come inside and talk to me."

Professor grabbed onto her nightstand and pulled it up with a tremendous grunt, scattering its contents as he heaved it over his head. With a great roar, he brought it down onto Blossom's head.

"Wake up!" he cried after it hit.

Blossom's hand appeared under the edge of it and gently pushed it off to the other side of the bed as she sat upright. She looked at Professor with blank curiosity, the area around her eyes red from tears and squinching, her vision still slightly cloudy from the pressure she'd put on her eyes.

"Blossom, what exactly is going on here?" Professor asked, breathing heavily from his recent exertion.

Blossom looked down at the object, cupped in one of her hands. Then her gaze shot up to the Professor again and she clutched it to her belly with both hands.

"Blossom, what is that in your hand?"

At first she simply said nothing. Then she shook her head.

"Where did you get that?" he asked. "You stole it from the crematorium, didn't you?"

Blossom kept her lips sealed.

Professor held out his hand. "I want you to hand that over this instant."

"But Buttercup's in here," Blossom argued, shrinking away from Professor's reach.

"I'm not going to do anything to it," he promised, an edge of irritation in his tone. "I'm just going to put it away in the lab until you calm yourself down."

Blossom looked with uncertainty at his still-outstretched hand. "But...but it'll be cold and lonely down there. She doesn't like cold, dark places."

Professor's face softened as equal parts desperation and sorrow invaded. "Please, dear. I'll take good care of her. I promise."

"You promise?"

"Really, really promise," he confirmed.

For several moments Blossom stared at the small thing, clutched to her belly. Slowly, with a glance at the Professor, she raised it up and set it gently in his open palm.

He held it closer to his eyes, taking a good look at it. As he put it in his pocket, he turned his attention back to Blossom, face suddenly serious again.

"Bubbles answered the hotline. Did she go out?"

"Bubbles?" Blossom asked. "I haven't seen her," she said honestly.

His expression softened. He looked down to the pocket the object now rested in. "I'm going to store this away safely. I'll be right back to speak with you, so I want you to wait right here for me, okay?"

Blossom nodded her head softly. After he walked out, she looked down at her empty hands. They felt so cold and lonely, now.

Left alone with her thoughts, her mind was affixed to the image of Ashley in the basement, staring up at her. Her thoughts circled around and around, disjointed and incomprehensible. Only the memory of Bubbles's accusation had any clarity, and it stung just as deeply every time it repeated: "You put death in her!"

The phone rang. This time it was their regular phone. Blossom heard it, but had no intention of answering it. Fortunately, after only a few rings Professor picked up.

Soon after, he came running to her room.

"It's Bubbles," he shouted. "She's been badly hurt. They have her at Brookhaven Hospital right now. Can you fly us out there to meet her?"

The news helped Blossom to find a shred of reality to grab onto, and she nodded weakly. They ran outside where Blossom scooped him up in her arms and took flight.

Despite their rush and pleas to see her, they were forced to sit in the waiting room for an hour before a doctor asked them to follow him.

"They have her stable," he said. "She's conscious, but in a lot of pain. I was hoping you might be able to help us better treat her in that regard, but.... Well, I don't know there's any other way to say this but directly, but you should prepare yourselves.... There was a severe injury to her right eye. We've done and are doing everything we can, but you should prepare yourselves for the possibility of permanent vision loss in that eye."

There was not a lot of time to react to that news before the doctor opened the door to Bubbles's room.

Professor and Blossom rushed to her bedside. Bubbles smiled shakily upon seeing them. Her right eye was bandaged, a sterile pad held in place with a gauze headwrap. She seemed otherwise unharmed, but the pain she felt crept into her facial expression.

"Hi, guys," she greeted weakly.

"Before I leave," the doctor said, "we have her on a morphine drip here, thanks to some of the special needles you gave us some years back. However, we're still not quite sure what the maximum safe dosage is, and the pain doesn't seem to have gone down any. Maybe when you can spare a moment--"

"Yes, doctor," Professor said without looking. "I'll be with you shortly."

The doctor nodded and excused himself, closing the door behind him.

"How are you doing, Bubbles?" Professor asked, clasping her hand.

"My head hurts. And it hurts when I cry."

"What happened?" Blossom asked. She was surprised when Bubbles shot her an angry look, even if the expression vanished before she answered.

"Mojo shot me with a new kind of laser gun or something," she said. "It hurt so bad I couldn't fight back. Next thing I knew he'd already left and they'd come to take E-Male and me away."

"Everything's okay now, dear," Professor assured her. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

Her face drooped and her voice became hoarse, but she did not cry. "Can you really make it stop hurting?"

Professor cast his eyes downward and nodded gently. "We'll see."

"Can you try? Now? Please?" Bubbles asked with all the sweetness and politeness she could muster, though it was plain from her tone and the way she clutched the bedsheets she was on the verge of screaming orders.

"I'll be right back," he promised. He turned to Blossom and made an attempt at a smile before leaving them alone.

For several minutes, Bubbles just stared at the ceiling. Blossom, not sure what to say, tried to take her hand as Professor did, but Bubbles jerked it away and continued staring upward.

Eventually the heavy silence wore on her, and Blossom asked, "Did you try and get me?"

Bubbles's eyelids (or, at least, her visible one) quivered slightly. Then she groaned in pain and blinked her eye, clearing the moistness away. Still, she refused to look at her sister.

"Were you still angry at me about Ashley?" Blossom asked. "Did.... Did Professor tell you...."

Bubbles hardened her face in a way that would have made Buttercup proud. "Yeah, he told me," she said. "Then the mayor called. Then I came to you."

It sounded like she had more words to say, but she cut them sort.

"I...don't remember that," Blossom said.

"It's like you weren't even there. I've never been so scared." Despite the hurt, insecure nature of the words, they were delivered with the same venomous tone.

"Did.... Was I asleep?"

"God, I don't even know," Bubbles replied. She raised her left arm and rested it on her forehead, blocking Blossom from her vision. "Was that..._thing_ you were holding what I think it was?"

"I think so," Blossom started uncertainly. "Buttercup--"

"Enough!" Bubbles growled, startling Blossom. "Enough with your damn obsession. Can't you focus on the living? The people you can still actually do something to help?" Bubbles scoffed. "Not like it's surprising. You always had to be perfect, didn't you? All or nothing. You always got hung up on your failures. Dad and I are trying to get over this, and you're digging yourself deeper under it."

Bubbles lowered her arm and turned to look Blossom in the eye. "I don't even recognize you anymore. It's like you're not even my sister."

Blossom had nothing to say. Bubbles's intense gaze caused her to avert her eyes more than once, but every time she looked back Bubbles's stare continued, unrelenting.

"Do you think I should go?" Blossom asked.

"Yes, I want you to go," Bubbles replied. Turning back to the ceiling again, she added, "I don't need your misery dragging me down."

Blossom hesitated, and when she did leave it was with a mix of reluctance and relief. After the door closed again, Bubbles once more tried to cut off her tears before they worsened her pain.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

[If Only]

Blossom didn't see her father in the hospital hallway. In a way she was relieved, and took the opportunity to fly home unnoticed. Her first stop was the garage.

It was painful to admit, but Bubbles had made it perfectly clear. Blossom was worthless as a leader. Did a pair of people even need one to call "leader?" Withdrawn and depressed, she was equally worthless to her family.

Blossom pulled down the polyduranium block and tube she'd hidden away just a few nights ago. So much had happened since then. So much had gone wrong, and it was all her fault. No one could dispute that.

She'd become dangerous. She wasn't thinking straight. If she couldn't trust her own judgment, no one should be expected to trust her. Having grown short-sighted, even obvious problems eluded her awareness.

Next she descended to the lab, steeling herself to see Ashley again. Setting her tools aside, she searched through her dad's cabinets, ignoring the bloody sheet covering the small form on one of the tables. She found the object, its graceful curves wasted in the darkness of the cabinet, in a jar beside its sister shard Professor had shown her the other day.

This time, Blossom felt that everything made sense. There could be no doubt. No denial. Blossom had lamented over the conundrum of giving Buttercup a new body without sacrificing a life.

She opened the jar and set the object on the counter. Mentally she ran through her intended course of action, though it should certainly be simple enough.

Without any value to her life, she could solve her problems in the most glorious marriage of solutions. She would give value to her life by surrendering her body, and give Buttercup renewed life so she could support their family as Blossom apparently never could.

Taking a pair of scissors stored in a nearby coffee mug full of pens, she quickly cut off most of her hair, leaving a short, mangy mess. As her great locks fell to the floor, she became lighter. The cool air of the lab pleasantly caressed her scalp.

After all, could she really say she'd be going away? Who could really say what would happen to her when Buttercup took root? Perhaps they would become intertwined. Perhaps Blossom would simply go away. Either way was fine.

Coldly, she slid the metal tube along her head with one hand, holding the block overhead with the other, searching for a spot that was in comfortable reach. She slowly lowered the block, then raised it, then repeated the motion. Then she lowered the arm with the block to her side, then brought it up quickly.

Buttercup's sacrifice, unintentional or not, had inspired a whole new respect for her in Blossom's mind. This was perhaps the purest, most powerful expression of that admiration. Perhaps Blossom's own sins would be forgiven in the light of selfless sacrifice.

She stopped just short of the tube. It seemed this was a good position. She took a deep breath to steady herself. This would probably hurt quite a bit. Squinting her eyes closed, she tensed the muscles in her arm. She'd have to start out with moderate force to ensure she didn't dig too deeply.

Clenching her eyes shut, she braced herself and swung.

Her mouth opened, and several seconds later the scream followed. Her arms folded against her will, forcing her to lower her instruments and hold them near her shoulders.

Taking several shaky breaths as she recovered, she set the block aside and felt around. What little was left of her hair was already wet with blood. Using the back of the hand holding the tube, she wiped a few trails of it from her forehead after they'd trickled to her eyebrows. More dripped down her cheeks and neck, the red flow parting around her ears.

There was still skin and hair there, though the little patch didn't feel the prodding of her fingers anymore. She pinched some of her hair with her fingers and tried to pull it away.

She let go and doubled over in pain. It seemed it remained attached to other areas that could still hurt.

Gritting her teeth, she held in her breath and placed the tube on her head again. She gave it four taps in quick succession, tilting the tube in a different direction each time to ensure she penetrated the skin all around.

The tube and block thudded and clanged to the floor as she dropped to her hands and knees. She loosed a half-scream, half-moan of pain and took quivering, sobbing breaths. More blood dripped down her forehead, some of it forming a bead on her nose and dripping off.

As soon as she could, she reached up and grabbed the circle of scalp by the hair again. She took in a great, deep breath and yanked.

Another, smaller cry of pain escaped her lips. It had briefly clung to her head, and the blood-slicked hair had almost slipped through her fingers, but it was gone now.

Too weak to continue standing through the rest of this, she sat up, leaning against the counter behind her. Her hand reached up blindly and fumbled around for the object above. It tingled almost electrically in her bloody fingers. She laid it beside her, taking up the block and tube once more.

The block was hard to hold onto now. She set it in her lap and wiped her bloody hand on her shirt. Afterwards, she pulled her shirt off over her head, muffling a screech of pain when part of it touched her wound. She toweled off the block and her face and set the shirt aside.

Still she felt warm blood dripping down her neck, and now down her back as well. However, this was a much cleaner, smaller wound than Buttercup had suffered. Blossom should remain conscious long enough to finish the job, and then her body's powerful healing abilities should cause her to clot as quickly as had Buttercup. Without involving Antidote X this time, surely she'd survive.

The first swing had come at about half her strength, she estimated. It was probably worth going nearly all-out this time. She lowered the block, then lamented that her hand rested on the ground, giving her less room to build up momentum.

She moaned and puffed through her nose like a spoiled child forced to do chores. After putting the object on the counter again, she pulled up a stool to sit on. Now her arm had all the swing she wanted.

After several deep, fast breaths, she closed her eyes and swung again.

The world became dark and fuzzy for a few seconds. She blinked her eyes a few times, seeing that she was now leaning on the counter. The block was on the floor in front of her. The tube had rolled a good distance away. Only after she'd taken the time to find it did she think to check her head.

She gasped in dismay. Her disappointment overpowering her pain, she dug in with her fingernails to confirm that she'd barely creased her skull.

Her disbelieving gaze drifted between the block and the tube. How likely would she be to pass out before getting through, at this rate?

Her mind scrambled for ideas. She paused to wipe more blood away before it soaked through her eyebrows and into her eyes. After a while, she nodded to herself. She moved the block to an open spot of floor.

Holding the tube firmly in place, she floated up to the lab's high ceiling and turned upside down.

"Okay, Blossom," she said. "One more time."

She flew down to the floor, but the resulting impact didn't hurt or stun her nearly as much as she'd expected. Chips of concrete stuck to her blood-soaked hair as she righted herself.

She saw the block sitting about a foot away from the small crater.

"Oh no!" she cried as her gaze shot to the damaged floor. She'd missed the block, and instead of hurting herself had driven the tube into the floor. Only a little bit stuck up, and she was unable to pull it up directly.

With a howl of frustration she drove both her hands into the concrete surrounding it, loosening it up and pulling out a hunk of it, tube inside.

She leaned to the side and started smashing it on the block, quickly breaking away the outer caking of concrete. Bits of the concrete inside broke and crumbled out as well. The continued exertion was doing nothing to reduce her bleeding.

Her heart sunk when she looked at the fully-recovered tube. Now slightly bent and misshapen, it was no longer a perfect fit for her wound, and what little progress she'd made would have to be thrown out.

Turning her head about in a panic, she started running through the lab, tossing out some drawers and using her penetrating vision on others. She was starting to feel lightheaded. She might not have any time to waste.

Near the back she found a hand-held grinder. In many ways it looked very similar to the bone saw Professor had used on Buttercup.

A nearby series of drawers contained fresh grinding wheels, labeled by purpose or material.

One blade was unlabeled, and while it had the dusty air of usedness, it didn't seem dull. Blossom took this in her hands, trying to pry and bend it. If it couldn't pass this test, it was useless to her.

Her efforts failed to warp or mar it in any fashion. Flustered even more by her success, she fumbled clumsily to attach the disc to the grinder. She pressed the switch and it whirred to life. She pressed it again and it died down. It wasn't plugged in and had no cord. Blossom looked inside and saw a portable fission battery. This must have been one of dad's custom-made powertools. It just might be strong enough to work, even with her powers intact.

She ran back to the chair, giving the object a reassuring squeeze after she sat down.

After a few more deep, panting breaths, she turned the grinder on. She clenched her teeth as it cut into her skin around the wound, but soon after opened her mouth and screamed, her cries of pain lost in the tool's noises.

She felt increased resistance, and then lost control of the tool. It cut a rough tear into her scalp as it was propelled forward. Blood flowed more strongly through the new cut, but she was barely aware of it. She tried to reset it again, and this time held on much more tightly as it cut and burned into bone. The noise and vibrations were maddening, and she had to pause before they made her black out.

Only allowing herself a few seconds of respite, she resumed her gruesome work. She tried angling the grinder in a different direction and lost control again, resulting in another harsh, unwanted gash.

Shortly after, she lost control again, to the same effect. Almost immediately after trying again, it happened a fourth time. She turned the grinder off and set it aside, her trembling hands telling her that her failing strength was the reason she couldn't keep control of the tool any longer.

Her eyes fell on the object. It hadn't needed such trivial implements to make its mark, had it?

Blossom snatched it up, holding the relatively smooth side against her palm. She lowered her arm as she had the block earlier, sucked in another breath, and swung.

It collapsed.

Quickly pulling her hand away, she saw the broken remains of the object in her hand.

"Oh god," she breathed shakily. She felt the top of her head with her other hand. She may as well have been numb for all the pain her digging around caused, and she pulled away several broken tendrils of the object.

The world became dizzy and blurry with a heady mix of tears and blood loss. As she fell out of her chair her last thought was how the object had, so long ago, appeared to be little different than a shard of glass.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

[Chimerical]

After the hospital staff had failed to find Blossom, Professor sat in worry during his cab ride home. The phone had gone unanswered, but he still hoped to find her at the house. It was hard to shake the knotted, apprehensive feeling in his gut.

Bubbles, at least, would be all right for the night. She'd be staying there for a few days, perhaps even a few weeks. But every time he tried to run through his mental list of necessities he had to bring back to the hospital tomorrow, his thoughts drifted again to Blossom, and he feared for what she might be doing.

Professor glumly thanked the cab driver for the ride and handed him some bills, not paying attention when he was told the actual fare and ignoring the man's offer for change.

He fumbled in his pocket for the house keys, eying them carefully in the dim glow of the streetlight before mounting the walkway to the front door.

After a few off-target attempts, the key slid into the lock and soon he was inside.

"Blossom?" he called out immediately, closing the door and turning on the lights. "Blossom, are you home?"

The door to his lab was open. Through the darkness of the kitchen he could see light pouring up out of it. It wouldn't have been surprising to leave it open in his haste to reach the hospital earlier, but still....

"Blossom?" he called again, turning on the kitchen light as he passed through.

"Blossom, I've been worried about you," he explained as he walked down the stairs.

If he hadn't grabbed onto the railing, he would have fallen down when his knees gave out.

For a few seconds, he stared in pain and disbelief. For the second time today he'd halted his descent down these stairs to find a precious child on the floor of the lab, unmoving and covered in her own blood.

Through sheer force of will, he prodded himself along, rushing down the stairs to kneel beside Blossom's body, lying face down on the cold floor.

"Blossom?" he asked as he carefully rolled her over. Aside from the obvious wounds on her scalp, it was hard to tell through the blood covering her face, chest, and bra whether she was otherwise injured.

Cradling her in his arms, he felt her neck for a pulse.

About five minutes later, he gently laid her back to the floor.

As he stood, his face appeared deep in thought, but in truth he was still struggling to decide if he should (or even could) clean this up tonight or if he should call the authorities. Thoughts of how to break the news to Bubbles, or any attempt to come to terms with all that had happened today, were a distant, absurd hope.

When he finally stepped forward, he heard a crunching, scraping noise underfoot.

He bent down and picked up a long, relatively intact tendril of the object. When he realized what it was, he looked around the floor and saw others scattered about. He turned his attention to Blossom again, seeing that her right hand was clutching something.

He pried her fingers open and saw more broken pieces of the cursed thing.

He simply closed his eyes and shook his head softly. There were no more tears left. His body, his heart, simply could not bear it.

Plodding to another part of the lab, he donned a pair of latex gloves and got to work. This couldn't wait until later, and he couldn't keep Bubbles waiting in the morning. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to sleep tonight anyway.


End file.
